


Good Boys Don't Gamble On Love

by thelittlestpurplecat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Assault, Badass Peggy Carter, Bets and Dares, Blow Jobs, Childhood Friends, Complete, Developing Relationship, Dry Humping, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kissing, M/M, Memory Loss, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Serious Injury, Recovery, Revenge, Skinny Steve, Threats of Violence, Touching, Who Can Fuck The New Kid First Trope, amputee bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 79,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4487409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestpurplecat/pseuds/thelittlestpurplecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been involved with the STRIKE fraternity on campus. They were a bunch of assholes, but they were really all he had, and they'd wagered a bet for a prize Bucky<i> couldn't</i> refuse. But in order to win, he had to be the first to fuck the tiny, <i>gorgeous,</i> blond freshmen, and he was competing against every other guy in the fraternity.  </p><p>It was just a bet. <i>A stupid bet.</i></p><p>Sure, it was mean, but no one was gonna get hurt...<i>right?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_The wind was whipping around Bucky’s body; snatching, and grabbing at strands of his hair. He could feel the pull on his cheek, and the tug of delight in the pit of his stomach. The motorcycle was purring; deep, and healthy below him. It handled like a dream. It was perfect._

_He turned the sleek machine smoothly, gliding around a corner and flexing his fingers on the handle grips. His mouth split into a grin, an exhilarated gasp escaping his flushed, red lips as he coaxed the bike faster. Bucky’s eyes were smarting from the rush of air, his blood racing. He could feel his heart slamming against his ribs. He felt light. He felt free. Bucky never felt better then when he was riding; never...except when he was with Him. He made Bucky feel like everything, like he could never be as happy, or feel as deeply for anyone ever again. One little smile from Him did things to Bucky's heart that he could never explain, and He didn't even know it. He didn't know that Bucky lived for the moments when he could hear His deep, easy laugh. He didn't know that Bucky thought about telling Him every day- telling Him what His smile did to his heart- telling Him that he-_

_Bucky crossed the intersection, and a truck smashed into his left side._

_And then there was nothing but pain._

-.-

A year and a half didn’t seem like a long time, not after such a serious accident; not after losing his left arm, and almost all of his memory. But all the same, everyone praised him over how well he was adjusting. They meant well, but their attention was smothering. It was true that he had learned to manage his prosthetic with ease, but Bucky didn’t have the heart to tell them that much of his supposed _recovered memories_ were faked in order to soothe their worries.

Of course it wasn’t _all_ gone. Bucky remembered his family and his working memory was in fair condition. He remembered things like world history, dates, and the sciences. He remembered how to drive, and cook, and other day to day tasks. But if someone asked him, Bucky wouldn’t have been able to tell them what he’d done on his eighteenth birthday, or whether or not he’d ever been skiing, or visited the Grand Canyon. Those details were lost to him, until something could dislodged them. _Some memories would never fully come back._

Still, it was a relief to be back at school, and away from his family’s well meant concern. He'd adjusted to his classwork, and -in the beginning- his professors had been more than willing to make accommodations for his limitations. Over the months though, Bucky regained most of his mental capacity, with the exception of the gaps in his memories. He _liked_ college...But at the same time...Bucky didn’t feel as though he fit, even when he was _assured_ that he did.

_“-Jamie-”_

Bucky lifted his head abruptly from his book. He’d been trying to catch up on the reading for his literature class that he was so sorely behind on, but the tangle of voices in the campus dining hall kept cutting in and out of his focus. For the most part, he’d been able to block it out; but not this.

Brock Rumlow sat across the table from him with raised eyebrows, his gaze fixed expectantly on him. Brock was the undisputed leader of the STRIKE fraternity on campus; a fraternity Bucky had been assured - _post accident_ \- that he had been a _deeply_ ingrained part of. He was rough around the edges; calloused, _sharp._ He had uneven, dark stubble, and a mouth that twisted into a crooked smirk, and spilled barbed sarcasm. He was clever, and a little vicious, but he was Bucky’s friend...at least...he’d _told_ him he was.

Bucky blinked quickly, shaking a few strands of his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. “Sorry, what?” He asked, feeling a tug of misplaced shame in his gut as Brock subtly rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“Would it _kill_ you to pay attention once in a while, huh?” He asked, his long-island accent, thick, and smooth; his dark, deep set eyes fixed on Bucky. Beside him, Jack scoffed something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a _‘not likely’._

Jack Rollins was Brock’s partner in crime, muscle, and occasional easy fuck. He had a nasty streak a mile long, but one word from Brock could have him on his knees. Conversely; one word from Brock could also have him blackening the eyes of any unfortunate student that might get on STRIKE’s bad side. Even from _inside_ the fraternity, Bucky didn’t want to be one of them.

 _“What?”_ Bucky asked again, the embarrassment shifting to annoyance as Brock seemed to be more interested in harassing him over spacing out then he was in actually repeating what he’d wanted him to hear. Fortunately, Brock let it go with an easy smirk, his eyebrows lifting suggestively as he tipped his chin to gesture over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Take a look behind you. The blond twink on your six.”

Bucky turned his head, his eyes flitting across the faces of the students that cluttered the dining hall, searching for the object of Brock’s attention. Brock shifted his weight over the table and pointed, his breath hot on Bucky’s cheek, mouth rested just beside his ear. “Right there. He’s cute, _yeah?”_

The moment Brock pointed, Bucky knew who he was referring to.

And _holy shit-_ he was actually kind of gorgeous.

The young man was sitting across the dining hall from where the STRIKE fraternity ate. He was fair skinned, and blond, and so gorgeously slender it made Bucky’s palms itch to touch. His waist and hips were narrow, his shoulder thin; bones almost visible under the skin. But there was a pretty flush across his sunken cheeks, and his lips were soft, and pink. Bucky could catch just a suggestion of clear, sky blue under the sweep of the young man’s long, dark lashes. He was _gorgeous,_ and Bucky was almost able to forget who had directed his attention to him in the first place.

But Brock was pushy. He thrived on ribbing, and encouragement, and Bucky wouldn’t wish his attention on anyone, so he merely shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the gorgeous blond as though it didn’t physically pain him to do so. He shrugged absently, turning his gaze back to his book.

“He’s alright.”

Brock scoffed, dropping back into his seat, looking a little chafed at Bucky’s unsatisfactory reply. “Oh _come on_ Jamie,” He drawled, and Bucky felt a twinge of annoyance. Not _Bucky._ Not _James_...always _Jamie._ “You’ve got to admit he’s got a sweet little ass.” Brock tempted, his tongue sliding out to suggestively wet his mouth, and he shifted his weight onto his elbows despite Bucky’s staunch attempts to ignore him. “He’d look real pretty all spread out, don’t’cha think?”

Bucky bent pointedly over his book, trying to block out Brock’s teasing, prodding voice; trying not to let his cheeks heat at the images Brock’s words tugged to the surface of his mind. The blond was _gorgeous,_ but Bucky shouldn’t be thinking about him that way. _He didn’t even know him_. He didn’t want to let Brock’s words paint images in his mind. But he wasn’t one to be ignored. Not ever. Not over anything.

_“Wanna bet I can fuck him?”_

The reaction from the other members of the fraternity was instantaneous. There was a chorus of wolf-whistles, and someone jarred Brock with an elbow. A few snorts, and scoffs mingled with the teasing crows of approval, and Bucky felt heat spill into the pit of his stomach. Brock was just being an asshole. The kid was _clearly_ too young for him. But that didn’t seem to bother Brock. He was grinning, and indulging in the teasing and encouragement of his fraternity brothers, and the way his eyes kept dragging over to the unsuspecting freshman worried Bucky. Brock was in constant need of being taken down a peg or two, and Bucky usually kept his nose out of it, but this? This was a little too much for Bucky to just sit back and watch. 

“You think he’s gonna be interested in a _geriatric_ like _you?”_ He asked, his tone, low, and smooth, the corners of his lips turned up in a scathing smirk as he met Brock’s eyes. There was a challenge there; or maybe a warning. All the same, the other fraternity members took it as a show, and there was an _explosion_ of barbed jeers at the brutal jab.

Brock’s mouth twisted in an incredulous smirk, his eyes flickering halfway to furious before cooling again, taking the jab with a strangled approximation of grace. _“Y’know what Barnes”_ He said coolly, arching an eyebrow with a nasty smirk, but he didn’t get to finish the sentiment.

“He’s probably right.”

Brock’s head snapped around to Rollins, who was slumped back in his seat, looking up at him with a sharpness that _Bucky_ could detect as jealously, but _Brock_ couldn’t see beyond insubordination. At the scathing glance, Rollins elaborated, dropping his eyes away with a smirk  “Jamie’s got a point.” He pressed on, Brock’s mood darkening beside him. “I bet he’d keep his scrawny little legs pretty tightly crossed around you.”

“Not a problem if you turn him over.” One of the other boys snickered, and Brock’s eyebrows flicked up appreciatively. Bucky felt his gut tighten.

 _“Alright…”_ Brock drawled, sitting back away from Rollins as dragging his gaze around the circle. “Alright you horny assholes, since you all seem to wanna get your hands in this, how’s to say we make a little bet?” Bucky didn’t like where this was going. _“First one to fuck the new kid wins.”_

His stomach dropped.

 _This was stupid_. It was _stupid,_ and _cruel,_ and Bucky wanted no part of it. But the group had exploded into overlapping chatter. The fraternity was suddenly all flashing, predatory grins, and glinting eyes. They looked like a pack of wolves, and Bucky was almost afraid for the object of their hunt.

“Win’s _what?”_ One of the STRIKE members called from across the table, sitting back with a shit-eating grin, and Brock faltered slightly. Bucky allowed himself a hint of cautious relief. It was all just hot air unless there was something good on the table. _Hopefully,_ no one would be able to propose anything to add enough incentive to make this whole cruel game worth it.

“I think I can help with that.”

_Shit._

_Jeremiah Pierce._

Jeremiah didn’t fit STRIKE’s general appearance or attitude. The fraternity was made up of the rebels, the leather jackets; the steel-toed boots. Jeremiah was undoubtedly a prep, with his white button ups and pastel shorts that really left _far_ too little to the imagination. But his grandfather, Alexander Pierce, was the president of the college, and Jeremiah was _filthy_ rich. He didn’t mind throwing away money on alcohol, or wild parties, so he was an unquestioned part of the group. If he was setting the prize, that poor kid was about to get the hounding of his life.

He sat forward, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips, his eyebrows lifted superiorly. Brock may be the leader, and Rollins may be the muscle, but Pierce was the _money,_ and _everyone_ attended to the money.

“I had a sweet little _something_ come into my possession a while ago…” He started, dragging out the suspense, basking in the attentive stares. “It was a bit of a fixer-upper, but I had it cleaned, and patched, and it run’s like a _dream,_ but I’ve two others so...I’m not against throwing it into the pot.”

Brock’s patience stretched like a rubber band, and then snapped. “Oh for fucks sake! _What is it?”_ He snapped, despite the eager, hungry faces around the table.

Jeremiah’s eyebrows raise, looking as though he was considering not telling out of pure spite, before he gave it up. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his ridiculously expensive, warm-off-the-press, iphone, casually scrolling through it’s contents until he arrived at the picture he was looking for. He tossed the iphone into the middle of the table with a clatter that made Bucky’s heart lurch, and his mostly empty wallet flinch. _This guy went through tech like tissues_. He could smash the screen and not bat an eyelash. _And why would he?_ He had enough money to buy the same thing a hundred times over.

STRIKE crowded forward, the young men pressing shoulder to shoulder to get a look at the prize for their nasty bet, and at the appreciative sounds, Bucky couldn’t suppress a niggle of curiosity. He shifted forward, lifting his chin to try and catch a glimpse of the image on the screen.

A motorcycle. A nice one. _Shit._ That was really going to get everyone’s attention. But more than that, it had gotten _Bucky’s._

_He knew that motorcycle._

He _owned_ that motorcycle.

Bucky’s brow drew into a deep frown, and he sat back heavily, trying to sort through his fog of memories. He _remembered_ that. That was his he was sure of it, but...how did...Bucky blinked rapidly, his head starting to throb. His memory was patchy, especially of the months surrounding the accident but...he thought...he vaguely remembered a day in the hospital. He’d been there for weeks, and still in bad shape; still on morphine. Someone had been there, assuring him smoothly that they’d take care of his motorcycle until he got better, they had said they’d get it fixed and as soon as he was out of the hospital he could have it back...he’d just needed to sign one little thing....

_Shit._

He’d signed his motorcycle over to _Jeremiah_ fucking _Pierce._ His motorcycle that he’d dreamed of since he was a kid, that he’d scraped and saved, and worked for since he was fourteen! And in a drugged, brain damaged state, he’d signed it over to the lowest, _slimiest,_ most entirely _selfish_ person on the whole campus.

And now he was pawning it off as a prize for manipulating some poor kid who’d have no idea what to do with the sudden harassment.

“Brock…” Bucky’s voice was low, and soft, almost lost under the excited chatter and jeering of the other frat boys. Brock was an asshole, but he was his friend... _he’d help him straighten this out._

Brock blinked casting him a barely interested glance before crowding back over the phone, smirking, and commenting over the sleek bit of machinery. Bucky’s gut twinged with agitation, and he pushed past the other boys, forcing himself down against Brock’s side, his body prickling with tension.

 _“Brock.”_ He pressed again, sharper this time, grabbing the older boy’s arm with his right hand and yanking him around to face him.

“Wh- Jamie, what the _fuck_ is your problem?” He demanded, his eyes already drifting back to the prize, before Bucky jerked them back to him with a rough tug on his arm.

“That’s _mine.”_ Bucky gritted out through clenched teeth, his gaze darting to the image on the phone before snapping back to Brock. “Brock, that motorcycle's _mine,_ I _bought_ that, I paid for it! I payed a fucking _lot_ for it!”

Brock snorted, tugging his arm free with an easy smirk that somehow only tightened the knot in Bucky’s gut. “What are you talkin’ about?” Brock drawled, his gaze sliding over to him before the expression softened just slightly, and he reached over, gripping the back of Bucky’s neck and squeezing comfortingly. _“You’re forgetting things again.”_

Bucky shook himself free with a start, his eyes widening incredulously. _They couldn’t do this._ He _owned_ that bike, it was under _his_ name! Or...or it _had_ been. He didn’t know. He didn’t know _anything_ for sure, just that his property was being pawned off on a bet he wanted no part of. _“It’s mine._ ” He insisted again, unable to think of anything else he could possible say. That was all he _should have_ had to say! But neither Brock, nor anyone else at the table was taking it for an answer.

“Well…” Brock said easily, jostling Bucky’s shoulder a little harder than necessary. “Win the bet and it will be.”

Bucky’s jaw very nearly dropped. _They couldn’t do this._ They couldn’t hold this over his head and _make_ him participate in this stupid game! They couldn’t- But Brock was dead serious. With the air of a leader, Brock hauled himself easily up onto his feet, snatching the phone on his way up and standing on the chair above the rest of the fraternity.

“Okay assholes, _listen up.”_ He called, commanding their attention with a nasty smirk. “ You’ve all seen the prize. First guy who gets the new kid to open up for him wins it. If that’s not your thing, _sorry,_ but you’re out of the running.” This was met with a little shuffling and muttering from a handful of the more obstinately straight guy in the fraternity, and Brock fixed his gaze on them with a wolfish grin. _“Or..._ you could just sack up and get it through your thick skulls that one tight hole feels about like the next. _Get to it dickheads!”_

The grinning order rang in Bucky’s ears, turning his skin hot, and his thoughts into white noise. He really, _really_ didn’t want to do this...but that bike was _his-_ he had to get it back- he- That bike held more of his clear memories than almost _anything_ else. While a lot of his past life was still a blur, Bucky could remembered working for it, coming home with aching muscles and a few more dollars in his pocket. He remembered counting every night, eeking his way closer, and closer. He remembered brorrowing money from his parents which he'd scrapped to pay back even after the motorcycle had been bought. Bucky could recall with a clarity that was _mostly_ lost to him, how he’d felt riding it, the wind rushing around him, the sun hot on his neck.

_He needed it back._

But STRIKE wasn’t just going to hand it over.

_He needed to win._

The STRIKE fraternity was dispersing around him. Vaguely, Bucky felt Brock grip his shoulder on the way by, before walking out, shoulder to shoulder with Pierce. Slowly, Bucky let out a strangled breath, feeling guilt already tugging at the pit of his stomach. This whole bet was nasty business. It was cruel, and the kid certainly didn’t deserve it, but at least if it was Bucky he could be patient, he could be gentle, and _maybe_ even explain it to him. He didn’t have to corner the kid into feeling like he was either under attack by a dozen guys suddenly trying to get into his pants; or _worse,_ hurt because he imagined someone was truly interested in him only to find out that the whole thing had been a sick joke. Bucky could keep that from happening...at least... _he hoped._

The only upside Bucky could see was that the fraternity hadn’t all descended at once like a flock of vultures. They’d gone their own ways, biding their time, or thinking of the best strategy to get the poor, unsuspecting freshmen into bed with them. So Bucky pushed himself to his feet and, feeling vaguely sick, crossed the dining hall towards him.

-.-

 _Start simple,_ Bucky tried to coach himself as he weaved his way around tables, and students, his prosthetic arm held close to his left side to keep it from getting nudged or jostled on the way by. It never hurt anymore, but the gut instinct to guard it was still in place from when it had.

 _God-_ He could see him more and more clearly now. The gorgeous freshmen sat at one of the dining hall tables, bent over his phone, his floppy blond bangs hanging over the thick rims of his glasses. He had a cute, vaguely hipster vibe, if the scarf and converse sneakers were anything to go by, and if Bucky was honest, that kind of thing worked for him. It suited his delicate build, and the thick glasses accented the length of his lashes, and the stunning blue of his eyes. He was by himself at the table, and as Bucky slipped closer, he felt his stomach sinking.

_This kid looked sweet._

_He didn’t deserve this._

_He shouldn’t do this._

“Hey,”

Bucky felt the greeting slip from his mouth before he could stop it, and he watched in horror as the blond tucked his phone away and turned to look up at him. His eyes were even bluer than Bucky had imagined. His mouth was plush, and pink, and parted just slightly with surprise, and there was something about him- something that made Bucky’s heart jerk in his chest- something that made his pulse jump, and his stomach turn into a knot.

_He shouldn’t have done this._

And then the kid’s expression went slack, his mouth dropping open; gorgeous blue eyes going perfectly round behind the thick frame of his glasses. Bucky’s already racing heart stuttered, the expressing striking into his chest like a physical blow. And then suddenly the boy blinked rapidly, and broke out in a strangled tone he’d never wished to hear.

_“Bucky?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're probably gonna need a few visual aids, and if you don't, buckle up, cause you're getting them anyways.  
>   
> This one's essentially perfect for this fic. Bucky's a little tragic, and a little shaggy, but not full blown Winter Soldier. Since his accident, he's more withdrawn, and has trouble discerning what's actually happened in his past.  
>   
> I imagine Bucky's prosthetic looking something like this, just going slightly higher up the arm.
> 
>   
> And for Stevie of course we've got this gorgeous little fucker.
> 
> As always, comments are _hugely_ appreciated! I'd love to hear your thoughts, opinions, and suggestions for this fic.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky felt the air leave his lungs.

The young man was staring up at him, wide eyed,  _stricken;_  recognition written all over his delicate features. This kid  _knew_  him.  _How did he know him?_  Bucky panicked.

“Sorry-” He blurted shortly, turning abruptly away. “Wrong person- sorry-” He had to get out of here. This whole thing was too much. The kid- the bet- the kid  _knowing_  him for fuck’s sake! He’d find some other way to get his property back. It didn’t matter who this guy had been to him in the past,  _he couldn't do this!_

“Hang on!”

Bucky moved faster.

“H- hang on! Hang on-  _wait!”_  A hand snatched at the sleeve of his jacket, grabbing, and holding him tight, stopping him with a lurch. Bucky’s head was pounding, his body coiled with tension as he dropped his chin against his chest, something tugging in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to bolt, but the blond freshman was relentless. Slowly, feeling a little sick, Bucky turned around, half-convinced that he’d somehow guess his intentions already. But when he managed to look him in the eyes, the blonds expression phased from shock, to sheer, unadulterated delight.

“ _Holy shit_ …” He breathed quietly, his soft, pink mouth turning up into a smile that spread rapidly into a grin. “Holy shit- Bucky it’s  _you!”_  Bucky blinked rapidly, speechless as the young man’s eyes dragged up and down the length of his body. He was just drinking him in, staring as his hands came up to frame Bucky’s upper arms, lightly holding him close as he soaked in his appearance.

“Uhm...Sorry- I-”

“No-no-” The stranger said quickly, dropping his hands hurriedly, his mouth still spread into a smile that made Bucky’s heart stutter even amidst the scramble of panic and confusion. “Sorry- I just... _Oh god_...I didn’t...I didn’t think I’d ever see you again…” His voice was soft, and deeper then Bucky had imagined with a subtle hint of a Brooklyn accent lingering just under the surface. His expression softened, growing warm, and affectionate, and Bucky felt the tug of nausea in his gut suddenly double. He always felt this way when someone remembered something about him that he didn’t. It made him feel sick; confused, out of control.

He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. It was all so fucked up. And he couldn’t even say anything.

At the tense, ringing silence, the blond’s gaze flickered quickly back up to his; open, and expressive, and the affectionate warmth abruptly twisted into stone-cold anxiousness.  _“Bucky?”_  He pressed tentatively, realizing that he’d said nothing beyond a stammered apology since approaching him. “Hey...You alright?”

Bucky swallowed back the knot in his throat, easing back just a step, his eyes darting around in a feverish search for...for assistance...escape...something. “I’m sorry-” He stammered, half-tempted to just turn and bolt again, but he stuffed the urge, passing his hand feverishly over his mouth. “I-I’m sorry...I don’t…” He was gonna be sick. His head was gonna split open. _“Who are you?”_

The younger boy frozen.

Suddenly, he  _looked_  exactly the way Bucky  _felt._  Confused. Hurt. Lost. He looked like he was going to throw up. For the expression on his angular, gorgeous face, Bucky might as well have slapped him with a brick. _He was reeling._

The boy took an unsteady step backwards, his expression flashing from shock, to suspicion, to confusion, and then morphed back to stunned disbelief. He dropped back onto the seat he’d been previously occupying, his eyes managing to drag up to Bucky; the clear, sky blue haunted with something bordering on anguish. It made Bucky sick to wonder what he must have been to this boy to make him look at him like that.

_“Is this a joke?”_

His tone was cracked, and ragged, and Bucky shook his head mutely, the desire to bolt suddenly squashed out by the odd, conflicting desire to comfort him. This wasn’t how he liked to make introductions. He didn’t like to bring up his accident right off the bat, in fact, he preferred if he could  _avoid_  going into detail as much as possible...but the way he was  _looking_  at him…

Bucky awkwardly sunk down in the seat beside him, his tongue feeling too thick for his mouth, his skin just a little too tight. For as easy as speaking felt, Bucky might as well have been asked to choke up a rock. He shifted his left arm, lifting the prosthetic wordlessly to draw the blond’s attention to it. The boy’s eyes dropped down, and the look of of shock dragged out what little color was left in his cheeks. “I...I was in an accident…” Bucky explained haltingly. “I had some pretty serious head trauma and...I don’t...really remember a lot...I’m sorry…”

For a long moment, his gaze stayed rooted on the arm, his lips parted, eye fixed wide. His hand twitched at his side, moving just slightly towards the prosthetic before he stopped abruptly, his eyes snapping up to Bucky. “I’m sorry- can I-”

Bucky gestured slightly with his prosthetic, giving the blond an encouraging jerk of his head. The knot in his gut was easing as his apparent history with the boy helped him to temporarily forget about why he’d approached him in the first place. Curiosity was getting the better of him. “Go ahead.” He murmured softly, and he couldn’t suppress the thrill that ran up his spine as his fingers slowly brushed along the arm, easing his sleeve up to his elbow.

“How…” He swallowed stiffly, still a little pale. “How far up does it go?”

Wordlessly, Bucky unzipped his jacket, shrugging it off over his shoulders and tugging up the sleeve of his t-shirt. The prosthetic came to an abrupt stop in the middle of his upper arm, meeting the flesh in a ragged line of brown, uneven scar tissue. The young man cautiously brushed up to the top of the prosthetic, his fingertips just grazing the line of scarring before he drew back.

“Buck...Buck, _I’m so sorry_...I didn’t…”

He sounded heartbroken, and the unanswered question tumbled around Bucky’s mind like stones shaken in a jar. He slipped his jacket back on. “It’s okay..." He said hurriedly, "it’s been a year and a half, and... _sorry_...but I...I still don’t know who you are…”

His gaze snapped up, and for just a moment, there was that same flicker of hurt, and confusion, and sickened disbelief. And then it was gone. In less then a second, he tucked the reeling shock out of sight and met Bucky’s eyes with a weak little smile. “I’m...Steve Rogers... _god_  it feels so weird introducing myself to you…”

Bucky returned the tentative smile, awkwardly reaching out his right hand. “I...guess I don’t have to tell you I’m Bucky, huh?”

The boy- Steve, gave a bark of laughter, but it was tight, and strained, and Bucky could see that -despite his best efforts- he was struggling. He didn’t know who he had been to Steve yet, but it must have been important. He must have meant a lot...Steve’s eyes were bright with a film of moisture he was determined not to let Bucky see. His mouth was pressed a little too tightly together. Bucky was thrown by the experience, But Steve was  _devastated._  He looked like he was going to cry…

Bucky lowered his hand slowly, watching with a tug of pain in his chest as Steve’s shoulders quivered. His entire body was drawn tighter than a bow string to keep from showing any visible signs of pain to the young man who no longer knew him. He realized Bucky didn’t remember whatever they had once had. He realized Bucky couldn’t feel what he was feeling. So he boxed it up. He choked it back and locked it away, but it pressed against his ribs, and skin; threatening to burst him at the seems. Bucky didn’t know him...but it hurt to see him upset.

“Hey…” He started awkwardly, Steve still quivering beside him to keep all the pain, and trauma locked in his chest. “Can I...buy you a cup of coffee? I feel like there’s probably a lot you need to tell me…”

Steve picked his eyes up off of the blank point he’d focused on to keep himself from breaking, and turned to look at Bucky. He looked awkward, and a little uncomfortable, but the look in those familiar steel blue eyes was sincere, and Steve found his mouth turning up into an aching smile.

“Yeah- yeah...okay…”

-.-

_Steve couldn’t process._

Bucky was  _here._  He was sitting right beside him. His hair was a little shaggier than Steve remembered, and his eyes reflected a spirit that was closed, and reserved. They didn’t dance with light, and excitement, and humor like they had when they were boys. His expression didn’t brighten into a warm, easy smile at the sight of him...He didn’t throw a heavy arm around his shoulder and pull him close in against his ribs...The arm was going to take a little getting used to as well. It was different...but it didn’t really bother Steve.

 _But the way Bucky looked at him_...The way Bucky looked at him bothered Steve.

_He didn’t know him._

Steve hadn’t believed it at first, he hadn’t wanted to let it sink in; be real, but it was true. Bucky-  _his best friend-_  looked at him like a stranger, like he blindsided, and confused Bucky...He looked at him like he didn’t know what to do with the affection he saw burning inside Steve’s chest, or with the hurt that reflected in his eyes when Steve realized their shared past was lost to him. He didn’t want to believe that Bucky could look at him, and not feel the ache of longing in his chest that Steve did.

He  _must_  have felt it too...Even back then _...he must have felt it…_

Steve swallowed the knot that threatened to push back up his throat again, his fingers flexing on his cup of coffee as the two young men sat on the edge of the coffee shop sofa; neither one quite comfortable. Bucky kept looking at Steve, but not the way Steve wanted to. He looked at him with curiosity mingled with discomfort...not with affection...not with the love Steve had once dared to hope for.

“Steve?...”

The uncertainty in his voice raked a long, bleeding gash in Steve’s chest. He sounded like he wasn’t even certain he’d uttered the right name. And it  _hurt-_  it fucking  _hurt-_  Steve smiled like he wasn’t trying to scrape his heart off the coffee shop floor.

“Yeah?”

Bucky shuffled on the sofa, shifting carefully so that he was almost knee to knee with Steve, but not quite touching. He felt  _awful._  Everything he did, or said seemed to make Steve cringe under the raw hurt, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, because he  _didn’t understand._  He didn’t understand  _anything_  yet... He opened his mouth for a moment, before closing it helplessly again, his stomach in a knot. He wanted to know. He wanted to ask. Bucky  _had_  to know what he’d had with this boy...Bucky’s lips parted again, but at the last second, the words he wanted to say choked in his throat.

“Your uh- your coffee good?” He asked lamely, gesturing weakly with his prosthetic and internally cringing at how forced, and stilted the words had come out.

Steve glanced up, smiling faintly. The bright, wetness in his eyes had vanished, but only after Bucky had caught him pushing up his glasses and scrubbing quickly over his face when he’d thought Bucky hadn’t been looking. The lower rims of his eyelids were a little pink, but beyond that, Steve no longer showed any physical traces of the raw, ragged emotions he'd barely managed to strangle back in the dining hall.

In answer to his question, Steve nodded, “Yeah, it’s nice...There’s a barista at the Starbucks back home who has my order memorized...starts making it as soon as I walk through the door.” It was small talk, and it felt empty, and flat, but it eased the burning silence between them.

“Where’s home?” Bucky asked softly, absently playing with the lid on his frappuccino, not sure at all how to dive into the questions he really needed to ask.

Steve dropped his gaze to Bucky’s hands as they twisted anxiously on the lid before his eyes flicked back up to his. “New York City...but...back when I knew you, it was still Brooklyn…”

Those five, simple words sent electricity racing through Bucky’s nerves.  _Back when I knew you._  He swallowed hard, his ears ringing, head buzzing as he sorted feverishly through his thoughts. Brooklyn was where he’d grown up, where his family still lived. _He had memories there_. He just had to think if any of them held the image of a blond hair boy, with eyes the color of the sky.  _“Yeah?”_  He managed tightly, the effort of searching his patchy memory making his head throb as it always did. “What- uhm...how did…”

Steve didn’t have to hear the whole sentence to know what Bucky was asking. It was the question that had been hanging above them since the minute Steve had laid eyes on him.

“We met in Brooklyn.” Steve blurted abruptly, his chest aching. His fingers twitched feverishly against his thigh. “I was six, you were eight...I was in trouble with a bunch of kids twice my size and you picked me out of it…” A quiet huff escaped Steve, and his eyes dropped away with a tiny, soft smile pulling at his mouth. “I was  _furious._  I couldn’t believe you’d just pull me out like that and let them get away, but you were more worried about keeping me from getting my head bashed in.” The words were coming easier now. They still stung, but the story slid smoothly from between his parted lips, and Bucky watched with rapt attention as he divulged their history.

“Eventually, I stopped swinging at you, and let you clean me up. You took me back to your house for water and band-aids…” Steve voice was soft, and wistful, his lashes brushing his sharp cheekbones as he looked down at the coffee cup in his hands. “From then on we were best friends…”

Bucky felt the words drop down into his stomach like a stone.  _Best friends..._ The gorgeous blond boy, sitting knee to knee on the couch beside him had been his best friend... _and he’d forgotten him._  Logically, Bucky knew it wasn’t his fault. The return of his memories was patchy, and random, and far from complete. He was missing  _years_  of his life yet. He  _still_  hadn’t memorized the names of all his extended family. It wasn’t his fault for forgetting Steve, but nonetheless, the guilt broke over him like a wave of ice water.

“I swear I spent more nights at your house then I did at mine.” Steve pressed on, still not quite able to look at Bucky. “I slept over all the time, and we’d take the cushion off the couch and make forts on the floor...We’d talk all night...make junk food that made us sick, and leave messes in the kitchen that your mom would yell at us about the next morning.”

Bucky snorted under his breath, his eyebrows lifting as he managed a smile. That sounded like his mother.

But there were things Steve couldn’t tell him, things he  _wanted_  to tell him. He couldn’t tell Bucky that when they’d gotten older, they’d just shared his bed instead of sleeping on the floor. He couldn’t tell him that Bucky had taught him how to kiss when he was ten, and left Steve’s head spinning, before telling him that was just the kind of thing friends helped each other with. He couldn’t tell him that he’d been in love with him since he was a kid, and how he’d never really started; just looked back one day and realized that he’d been in love for  _years._  He wanted to-  _oh god_  he wanted to- but he  _couldn’t._  Steve hadn’t been able to tell Bucky when they were teenagers, and he couldn’t tell him now. It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be  _fair._  Bucky didn’t know him, and he was only just adjusting to the idea of having been his friend. Telling him that he’d been in love with him now...It would make Bucky feel like he owed him. Like he should find a way to feel that way for Steve, even if he didn’t….I wouldn’t be right…

_It wouldn’t be right…_

Steve’s words died away, his eyes fixed on his lap, his chest aching like he’d once thought it never would again. Losing Bucky once had been bad enough...now he was sitting right beside him...and he was  _still_  lost... _he was more lost than ever…._

Bucky glanced over at Steve in the silence, and he drew in a long, slow breath through his teeth, before steeling his nerve, and committing fully. He reached out, and ever so carefully gripped Steve’s forearm. Steve startled under the touch, his eyes snapping abruptly up to Bucky’s and he offered him a faint smile, his heart thumping a little too fast in his chest. “Steve?” He pressed softly, the other young man staring at him like his heart would break. “Can I give you hug?”

The tension in Steve’s face abruptly crumpled, his shoulders going suddenly loose as he almost slumped forward. Bucky’s smile softened sadly as he moved forward to meet Steve and wrapped his right arm firmly around his shoulder, gripping gently into the back of his shirt as his prosthetic left rested lightly on his ribs. Steve’s tiny body fit into the curve of Bucky’s like he was made for him, and Bucky instinctively pressed closer, his nose turning in against Steve’s hair. He didn’t remember him, but the hug felt right; the way Steve’s fingers twisted into the front of his shirt, the way he tucked in against Bucky’s shoulder and didn’t move felt  _right._

For a hug that should have felt stilted, and awkward, Bucky felt completely relaxed. Steve seemed content folded in his arms, and his hair smelled like fresh air, and spiced shampoo. It smelled like home, and Bucky began to wonder if Steve had been completely forgotten after all.

Almost reluctantly, Bucky loosened his hold around Steve’s shoulders, and Steve pulled away, his grip falling from the front of his shirt. His eyes were a little pink again, but the smile that lingered on his mouth didn’t seem quite so strained, and the quivering tension had fallen out of his muscles. Bucky smiled gently, and his lightly curled knuckles rubbed softly against Steve’s upper arm, soothing at the hurt the younger boy held in his chest. This wasn’t usually his role; the comforter, _the supporter,_  but Steve drew it out of him the way no one in his memory ever had before, and it made Bucky truly believe that they’d had something in the past.

“I’m sorry.” He said again, just gently, just quietly. “I  _wanna_  remember, but my heads a bit of a mess...I  _believe_  you though, if it helps...

Steve dropped his head away for a moment, his eyes lowering to linger on Bucky’s left arm, before his fingers grazed softly over the prosthetic once more. “What happened?” He asked evenly, his voice lower than Bucky would have originally expected to come out of such a tiny body.

“Motorcycle accident.” Bucky explained simply. “I was nineteen.” Steve nodded shallowly, and Bucky fell silent, just watching as Steve familiarized himself with Bucky’s new arm, getting used to the way it looked; the way it felt. Usually, it bothered Bucky when people stared, but Steve just seemed to be factoring the arm into his view of Bucky, altering his mental image of him to accommodate the trauma of the accident, and how that would affect their interactions. And as Steve traced the new limb, something struck Bucky that he hadn’t considered before.

“Why weren’t you there?” He asked abruptly, and Steve’s eyes snapped up, guilt flashing through him like a bolt of lighting, and Bucky instantly saw the error in what he’d said. He hadn’t meant to  _accuse_  Steve- He hadn’t meant to- “I- I mean-” Bucky looked away quickly, before his eyes darted back up to his, trying to undo the guilt his words had forced onto Steve’s heart. “I mean, if we were best friend, why didn’t you know about the accident? Why haven't I seen you before?” Come the think of it,  _why had none of his family ever mentioned Steve?_

Steve blinked rapidly, allowing the knot that had abruptly coiled in his chest to soften.  _Bucky wasn’t blaming him._  He wasn’t blaming him for not being there for him; for not helping him when he was injured, and lost, and confused. He’d just misspoken. “We lost contact.” Steve started, and knew in an instant, for the expression on Bucky’s face, that it wasn’t enough. “M-my mom passed when I was fifteen, and I got put in the foster care system. I was placed with a German man named Dr. Abraham Erskine. He took care of me after my mom died, that’s when I was moved to New York City, but...in all the shuffle, and confusion...we lost touch…”

Bucky processed Steve’s words carefully, trying to fit them into the timeline of his life. When Steve was fifteen, Bucky would have been close to seventeen...His parents had told him they moved houses around that time, although he didn’t  _actually_  remember moving. That must have contributed to the mess that had lead to his and Steve’s loss of contact. And then the accident two years after that…

“Were you okay?” Bucky asked softly, looking up at Steve with a hint of concern in his gaze. The foster care system was a road paved with good intention, but it was also deeply flawed, and children ended up hurt, and mistreated just as often as they ended up loved and cared for. Something deeply ingrained in the most tangled part of Bucky’s mind felt the need to assure himself of Steve’s safety.

Steve nodded shallowly, his eyes growing slightly distant as he fussed with the coffee cup in his hands. “Yeah...Losing mom...that never really stopped hurting...but Erskine took care of me like I was his own son…He saw something in me that not a lot of people did…” His eyes flickered up to Bucky’s and his soft, pink mouth turned up in a smile. “It’s ‘cause of him that I can even  _go_  to college. I never would have been able to pay for it on my own.”

Steve’s assurance eased the itch inside him, and Bucky smiled faintly. He could almost imagine the years they’d had together even if he couldn’t  _remember_  them. The only thing that bothered him yet was why his parents had never spoken of Steve, but Steve didn’t have the answer to that question, so Bucky tucked it away to worry about another time.

By now, Bucky’s frappuccino had gone warm, and Steve’s coffee had gone cold, but they didn’t seem to mind. The two boys sat, still knee to knee as Bucky soaked in the story of a life lost, and  _Steve_  soak in  _Bucky._  It took him several long minutes to realize Steve was staring.

Abruptly, he dropped his eyes away, a flush dusting just across his sharp cheekbones. “Sorry…” He murmured, his head jerking in a tiny shake as he managed a smirk. “Just- can’t quite get used to seeing you s'all…”

Bucky took the straw in his frappuccino, stirring around the half-melted drink before glancing up at Steve with a faintly reassuring smile. “S’okay-” To be honest, Bucky was having a hard time looking away from Steve. He was absolutely  _beautiful,_  even with his thick glasses a little crooked on his nose and the rims of his eyes a little pink. That sheepish little smile on his lips sent warmth pooling in Bucky’s stomach, and the way those soft blue eyes darted over, and then away from him made Bucky want to tuck him under his arm and tug him close against his side. It must have been muscle memory; his body feeling the need to do what his mind didn’t remember, the desire to be relaxed, to be affectionate towards Steve. But his judgement stopped him, because, for the moment, they were still strangers... _weren’t they?_

Bucky didn’t open up to people. He didn't tell people about his accident, and he didn’t  _really_  feel comfortable with talking to strangers in general. His social circle was limited, and his interactions with the STRIKE fraternity was really only because he’d been a part of that group since before the accident. Otherwise, he  _never_  would have placed himself in such close social proximity to other people. But  _Steve_...talking to Steve had felt natural, and comfortable. Hugging him had felt  _right,_  and Bucky didn’t feel judged, or uncomfortable when Steve familiarized himself with his prosthetic

Thinking hard, Bucky could hear in his mind, a deep, soft laugh that he’d never been able to place before. In his recent memory, he’d never heard Steve laugh, but the sound that had resurfaced in the tangled mess of his mind seemed to fit. It sounded just like his voice did; clear, and sincere, and even. It held the same note of strength as his voice, despite his fragile physique.

Steve shifted just slightly beside him, sitting a little closer since the hug, his arm resting lightly against Bucky’s. For once, the closeness didn’t bother Bucky. “Hey Buck?” Steve murmured softly, the nickname sounding easy, and natural to his ears. “Your memories of us...of when we were friends- is there...do you think they’re gone for good?”

He could hear the fragile restraint in Steve’s tone, the other boy reigning in his emotion; holding it in a white-knuckled grip right between hope, and searing disappointment. He didn’t want to give up on what they’d once had,  _not yet,_  but he didn’t want to let another blow level his heart to the ground.

Bucky blinked rapidly, turning towards him a little bit, his heart tugging with something he couldn’t quite name.  _“No,”_  He said softly, some irrational part of him wanting to grab Steve’s hand, but he buried the urge. “No, I- I don’t think  _anything’s_  gone for good...but...it’s all tangled up, and foggy, and sometimes, I can’t remember something until something that’s  _right in front of me_  shakes it loose.” Steve’s eyes flickered up to him, and Bucky pressed on carefully. “I...I  _might_  never have remembered you, but...having you right here...I already feel like I know you...I think  _because_  you’re here...I’m gonna be able to remember...just, give me time.. _.I can do this…_ ”

Steve’s mouth turned up in a faint smile, and maybe Bucky was crazy, but he thought he saw his fingers move, and then still at his side; as though he was driven by the same urge Bucky had stifled only moments ago. There  _must_  have been a level of physical comfort between them, an element of tactile interaction that Bucky’s body, and muscles still remembered. A connection of touch that Steve -in his patience- stifled, even though it was twisted into the very strands of his DNA. But Steve tucked away the hunger for Bucky’s touch, just like he’d tucked it away every day for the past three years. He’d waited this long to feel Bucky’s affection again.  _He could wait a little longer._

“You’re  _gonna_  remember.” Steve said with total, and complete certainty, his eyes lifting evenly to Bucky’s, his gaze warm, and reassuring, and Bucky felt that same little tug that had been yanking at his heart for the past hour. The sensation drew a faint smile to his lips, and he tipped his cleft chin against his chest before glancing back up to the boy who’d once been his best friend.

“You gonna stick around and help me?”

Steve’s shoulder nudged gently against his own, the blond smiling wordless confirmation, and Bucky felt something stirring inside him that was simultaneously completely foreign, and yet so familiar he felt like a missing piece of himself had just slipped back into place. Looking over at Steve, Bucky felt his heart warm, and his blood race under his skin. Steve  _belonged_  in his life, he  _always_  had, and even though Bucky didn’t visually remember him, his heart reacted to him as though he’d never forgotten.

And then, the impossible, fluttering warmth that Bucky had thought he’d never be able to feel again abruptly choked out.

It turned still, and cold, dropping into the pit of his stomach like a rock as he remembered what he was doing here, what he was supposed to be doing to  _Steve._  He was supposed to manipulate him, trick him. He was supposed to used Steve’s trust to coax him into bed with him and then take his prize, and leave him; baffled, confused... _betrayed_ …

Bucky’s throat closed up around the knot of guilt, and he forced a fixed smile as Steve’s face lit up like the sun, and he launched into a story of the shared past that Bucky was going to use to hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be up soon, I'd love to hear what you all think. <3


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky was stunned by how quickly he fell into a level of comfort with Steve. The first time Steve invited Bucky to his dorm room, he’d thought it might be awkward, and uncomfortable. But within minutes, they were sitting on the floor with their backs to Steve’s bed as he clicked through videos on youtube and pitched pieces of popcorn at Bucky from the open bag that lay between them. Bucky hadn’t felt so at ease with anyone in his living memory, and it was all the more proof that what they’d had before had been very, _very_ real.

The fluttering in his chest didn’t go away either, and Bucky could feel it stirring deep inside him every time Steve smiled. _His smile did something to him..._ He didn’t know what, but whatever it was, made Bucky feel warm, and safe. He found himself looking forward to meeting Steve for lunch, to dropping into his dorm room after classes, to sitting across from him in the coffee shop while he told him stories.

And _god_ there were so many stories!

Steve told him about adventures that had taken them deep into the sprawling streets of the Brooklyn. He told him about trouble they’d gotten into, and how they’d solved it, or how it had come back to bite them. He told Bucky about his mom, and how they would often help her bake cookies, but really helped more in eating the batter. There were _so many_ stories, and Bucky soaked in every one of them.

He knew this entire situation was going to go bad before he knew it, but for now, he could indulge in this little bit of happiness.

He was allowed that.

_Wasn’t he?_

-.-

Sent: 6:47 PM

_“You’re getting awfully chummy with the twink.”_

Sent: 6:49

_“Shut up Brock.”_

Sent: 6:50

_“No, I’m actually impressed Jamie, no one else has had any luck, yet he seems to be stitched to your hip. What gives? You fuck him yet?”_

Sent: 6:53

_“I said shut up.”_

Sent: 6:54

_“Alright, alright, You don’t have to tell me your strategy, but I think it only fair to warn you that I’m still going to win this.”_

Sent: 6:55

_“Wouldn’t want you to get your hopes up.”_

 

Bucky dropped his phone into his pocket with a scowl. He’d been so happy until just now. Until just now, he’d managed to avoid the rest of the fraternity, until now, he’d been on his way to see Steve without a thought in his head but how pretty, and warm Steve’s smile always looked when he opened the door. And then Brock had to text. It soured Bucky’s mood, and twisted the knife of guilt that was semi-permanently buried in his gut.

He was already imagining some kind of alternative to his situation, one that didn’t end with Steve getting hurt…He just...hadn’t _implemented_ any of them yet.  

Bucky shook off the scowl that had etched itself onto his features, and let himself into Steve’s dorm room, slipping through the winding halls until he came to the young man’s door. Reaching out, he tapped lightly on the door, his heart giving a little stutter as he heard a quite scuffle from inside.

“Coming,”

A moment later, the lock clicked, and the door swung open to reveal Steve; dressed in skinny jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, his glasses pushed up onto the top of his head. He blinked, his gorgeous blue eyes crinkled to slits before he dropped his glasses down, and his face lit up with warm recognition. “Hey-” He said, smiling sheepishly, and instinctively moved forward, his arms looping easily around Bucky’s waist as he stepped into the hug.

Bucky’s mouth spread into a warm smile of greeting, and he drew Steve close, his right arm wrapped securely around the back of his bony shoulders, his nose scrunched against the side of Steve’s head as he tucked his face in against him. “Hey Steve,” He murmured against his neck, that comforting smell of fresh air and home meeting his senses as he held the younger boy close.

As Bucky’s hot breath ghosted over his skin, Steve felt a shiver spill down his spine, and he quickly drew back, his stomach hot with embarrassment. He could _feel_ the pink in his cheeks, and he quickly covered the reaction with a smile, jerking his head towards the inside of the room. “Y’just gonna stand out there?” He asked, trying to pretend that Bucky’s breath on his neck hadn’t sparked images in his mind of his best friend tenderly kissing his jaw, and throat. Bucky wasn’t ready to know he felt that way about him. Steve wasn’t sure _he_ was ready for Bucky to know either. He’d just gotten him back, but already the feeling that had burned in Steve’s chest since he was a child had returned with full force. It was like Bucky had never been gone.

Steve was still as hopelessly in love with him as he had been three years ago.

Bucky followed Steve into his room, Steve letting the door swing closed behind them before he dropped back onto his bed with a huff. One corner of Bucky’s mouth turned up into a smile, and he settled his weight in beside him, shoulder to shoulder with Steve, his legs hanging comfortably off the long side of the bed. “How was class?”

Steve reached up, his lip twitching with disinterest as he fussed through his soft blond hair. “Could have been worse.” He said easily, trying to rake some of the tangles out of the strands. “About normal though. Some guy tried to hit on me today.”

Bucky’s heart gave a funny little lurch in his chest, and the pit of his stomach suddenly flushed hot with guilt, and shame. It was probably one of STRIKE’s guys, it was too coincidental to be anyone else. “Guy’s aren’t your speed?” Bucky asked, trying to keep his tone level, trying not to allude to his guilt, or the weird hope that had suddenly stirred inside him. If Steve was straight then that was that. No one was talking him into bed with them, no one won, and the bet was off. It would solve _one_ of his problems -the problem of not wanting to hurt Steve- and leave him with two more. If Steve was straight, he didn’t get hurt, and Bucky was left needing to find another way to get his property back, but he was _also_ left with the feelings Steve had stirred in his chest.

The more he was with Steve, the more his heart remembered him. His memories were still foggy, although there were some things Bucky could _almost_ convince himself he really remembered. But whether his mind did or not, his _heart_ remembered Steve, and it was falling in love with him faster, and harder than Bucky knew how to handle.

_He must have been in love with him before._

The realization had struck Bucky only this morning, and it had left him reeling, but at the same time, it had made sense of the confusing feelings that had baffled him for almost two weeks now. He had been in love with Steve, and he was falling in love with him again now. It was almost sick -with all the hot, fluttering feelings Bucky was nursing in his heart- to hope that Steve was straight. But if he was, he wouldn’t have to be hurt, by _anyone,_ least of all Bucky.

Abruptly, Steve snorted beside him, clapping a boney hand over his mouth to stifle the noise, and his bright blue eyes darted over to Bucky. He dropped his hand away, mouth spread into an incredulous smirk as he stared at him. “Oh _god-”_ Steve managed, his shoulders shaking with a half-suppressed chuckle. “You really _don’t_ remember.” Bucky offered him a half-hearted smirk, shrugging apologetically, and Steve let out a breathless laugh. “Alright,” He snickered, “Alright, okay, you wanna hear the epic saga of my coming out?”

Bucky’s stomach sank, but he forced a little nod anyways. Steve wasn’t out of the woods yet then. Not by a long shot.

Steve shifted over onto his side, laying beside Bucky across the width of his narrow dorm bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hair was tousled from running his hands through it, and his lips were soft, and pink, and Bucky had to focus very hard on the words coming out of them or else he was afraid he might steal a moment of contact that shouldn’t belong to him.

“When I was five,” Steve started, his mouth turned up into a little smile. “I came running to my mom to ask her to help me pick flowers for my friend Howard. When she asked me why, I told her it was because I thought he was pretty and I wanted to marry him.” Steve dipped his head against his chest, another one of those soft little snorts escaping him, and Bucky blinked, waiting for more.

“ _That’s it?”_ He asked uncertainly, and Steve rolled his head back, shifting onto his back once more and folding his slender fingers over his hollow stomach.

_“That’s it._ ” Steve said easily, looking over at him with that same look of warmth, and affection that made Bucky’s heart skip. He offered a shrug, his legs kicking softly back and forth against the frame of the bed. “I’ve _always_ known I liked guys _and_ girls. My mom figured it out when I was five, and it’s just always been that way. There have been people who’ve tried to talk it out of me, but even _they_ gave up by the time I was a teenager. It’s never been something I’ve been ashamed of. It’s just been a part of me for literally as long as I can remember.”

Bucky soaked this in thoughtfully, letting his weight shift down until he was also laying on his back, once again shoulder to shoulder with Steve. _“I_ knew?” He asked absently, and Steve nodded, his gaze flickering over to him.

“Yeah. And if I wasn’t doing a good enough job tearing someone a new one for getting on my case about it, you’d be right there raising hell along with me.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the mental image. In some way, it was a comfort to know that -at least at _one_ point in his life- he'd been a good person, because he certainly wasn't _now._ By Steve's word, he'd been someone who defended Steve's right to his personal expression. Now, he was the kind of person who'd exploit that personal expression for his own gain. It didn't make anything better, but at least he hadn't _always_ been a wretch...

Steve's hand slid out to the side and he nabbed one of his pillows from the top of the bed, squashing it under his head to support the delicate curve of his neck. "I've _always_ been into guys," He said easily, as though circling back to Bucky's original question. " _That guy_ just wasn't my type. He was a bully, no if ands or buts about it. _Y'know,"_ Steve snorted softly, tipping his head over to look at where Bucky lay beside him. "When we were younger -I was about fourteen- there was this guy who wouldn't lay off of me. We went to school together and he was always cornering me, trying to grab me, and kiss me and shit like that. Kept mouthing off about _if I was so queer I shouldn't complain that he was trying to kiss me."_

Bucky gratefully took the distraction, letting himself get lost in the story, letting himself forget about the guilt that sat in his stomach like a rock. He shifted over onto his side, propping up his head in the palm of one hand, the other resting lightly on the bedspread between them.

"You were on your way to meet me so that we could walk home together like we always did, and you were just coming around the corner when this guy shoved me against the wall and jammed his freakin' tongue down my throat. " Steve arched an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth turning up into an ugly smirk. "You were on your way to deck him when-"

_"You bit his tongue."_

The word shocked both of them to silence. Steve's eyes flashed over to him, his mouth parted in surprise. Bucky looked startled that the words had come out of his own mouth. He blinked, short, and rapid, chasing the brief moment of clarity with everything inside him.

"You bit his tongue and wouldn't let go.." Bucky pressed tentatively, Steve watching in stunned silence as Bucky recalled the event, a little knot drawn between his brows. "I- I _remember_...you got blood all over your mouth and someone got a teacher....The guy was sobbing by the time they made you let him go, and you- your face was _scarlet_ and you were screaming at him that _if he wanted his tongue in your mouth so bad he shouldn't complain if you kept it there_..." Every word came easier than the next, and Bucky could almost see it playing out in his head; the stark red of blood against Steve's pale chin, the creeps mouth hanging open as ugly tears and snot ran down his face. Bucky's mouth twitched into a careful smile. "You both got detention, and you were _livid,_ because he was the one who pushed himself onto you, but _you_ ended up in detention anyways....I remember laughing so hard at that guys face...he never thought you'd fight back. Never thought you'd play meat-grinder with his tongue if he put it where it didn't belong..."

Steve's mouth turned up in a tiny smile, mimicking the expression on Bucky's face, his eyes still wide with stunned disbelief. _"Yeah,"_ He managed breathlessly. "Yeah, that's _exactly_ what happened- You- You _remember!"_ He rolled quickly over onto his side, almost forehead to forehead with Bucky on the bed, his eyes suddenly dancing with excitement, and light. "Holy _shit_ Bucky, you _remember-"_

Bucky's head was throbbing, but Steve's smile made his stomach feel warm, and fluttery, his heart turning over in his chest. _He remembered._ He could picture Steve's face, contorted with rage, mouth covered in blood. He could remember waiting outside the office with Steve's mom. He remembered sitting with Steve, and laughing about it later, after Steve had brushed his teeth four times over. It was an island of clarity in the middle of the fog, but it was there. It was solid, and absolutely, undeniably _real._

It was his first true memory of Steve. It was his first true memory of _them._

Bucky’s mouth pulled into a smile, and Steve shuffled closer eagerly, his eyes alive with anticipation. “What else?” He pressed, his clear blue eye boring into him. “Do you remember anything else? I wanna hear _everything.”_

“I- remember us joking about it later...I think we were in your room.” ‘ _I remember being in love with you.’_ “I remember your mom didn’t get mad at you at all because she said it was his fault for forcing himself on you and she was proud of you for defending yourself…” _‘I remember wanting to kiss you, wanting to feel your waist under my hands...’_ Bucky choked back the thoughts, his mouth going dry as Steve shuffled in.

_His mouth was really close._

Bucky’s words faltered, and then broke off, his mouth suddenly dry, his head going fuzzy as he felt the soft whisper of Steve’s air across his lips. He was _right there._ He was _inches_ away, staring at him; bright eyed, and eager. He wanted so much to hear that Bucky remembered him, and in a brief moment of clarity, Bucky could feel the same agonizing burn in his chest of knowing he loved Steve, and not being able to tell him.

_He couldn't he couldn't do this- not to Steve._

"Bucky?"

Steve soft, deep voice cracked into Bucky's bones like a bullet and in one, swift movement, Bucky was on his feet, yanking away from him before he could do something he'd regret. He lurched off the bed with his heart in his throat, trying to stifle the sudden, burning urge to take Steve's face -so close to his own- and draw their mouths together. But he couldn't, because no matter anything else, he couldn't hurt Steve. He knew that now, and if he kissed him- if he kissed him it would all go wrong, and Steve would somehow find out. And then that kiss- that kiss that should have been the first real, honest expression of love Bucky could remember giving anyone, would turn into something that would make Steve shudder. It would be the thing that had Steve tracing his soft, pink mouth, and feeling dirty, wondering why the boy who'd been his best friend his whole life would use him. It would be the thing that would make Steve's stomach turn to look back on, and he'd _hate_ him. _Steve was gonna hate him._ So Bucky couldn't _ever_ have that with him, he just couldn't.

Steve blinked, startled as Bucky jerked away from him, breaking the air of tense excitement that had threaded between them with the return of even a _few_ of Bucky's memories. He pushed himself up onto one narrow elbow, opposite hand unconsciously moving to push his glasses up onto his nose as he stared at Bucky's in open confusion. He looked...kind of _sick_...Bucky's face had abruptly drained of color, his wet, red lips pulled into a tight line. There was something in his eyes that scared Steve. He looked panicked. He looked... _guilty_ , and it chilled the skin across the back of Steve's neck.

"Bucky?" He tried again, more gently this time as he carefully eased to his feet. Bucky had stopped dead in the middle of the room. He wasn't looking at him. "Hey...you alright?" Steve pressed tentatively, moving over and gently resting his hand against his left elbow, feeling the prosthetic beneath his sleeve. Bucky looked up at him, but despite the little smile that he forced to his mouth, Steve could see the uncertainty and guilt still haunting his gaze. Steve could see it so clearly, there was nothing else it could be, but the fact that he didn't know what would cause Bucky to feel this way scared him to death.

"Sorry." Bucky replied carefully, his voice tight with restraint. "Head hurts when I get thinking too much about stuff like that, I- uhm- actually, do you have some ice, or some aspirin?" He head _was_ throbbing, but it was Bucky's conflict, and guilt that had driven him away from Steve. He'd needed the distance. Because if he didn't distance himself from Steve he was going to kiss him, and _that_ was something Bucky had decided could never happen.

Steve’s brow tugged, and then drew into a frown. Maybe Bucky didn’t know him, but _he_ knew _Bucky._ He’d know Bucky Barnes inside and out from the time they’d been children, and although the distance, and the accident had changed him, he was _still_ Bucky, and Steve _still_ knew him like the back of his own hand. And if Steve knew anything about Bucky at all, it was that right now, he was fucking bluffing. He was trying to throw him off, and Steve wasn’t biting.

“No.” Steve said levelly, “That’s _not_ it, now I _know_ you don’t remember a lot James Buchanan, but if there’s _one_ thing I’ve never done, it’s take your bullshit. So out with it.”

Bucky blinked, almost offended that Steve didn’t believe him, before remembering that it had _absolutely_ been bullshit, and Steve was just better at seeing it than Bucky could have ever imagined. But then again, Steve had known Bucky for _years,_ and Bucky had only known Steve a _week._ “It’s nothing-” Bucky tried, jumping tactics. “It’s not important, forget it.” But Steve’s eyes were burning with determination, and Bucky felt heat spill into the pit of his stomach as the younger boy stalked forward, his demeanor assertive. He was so fucking _tiny,_ but his expression was set, and his clear blue eyes left no room for arguing. Steve stopped dead, right in front of Bucky, his sharp chin tipped up, jaw locked, and there was no room for argument in his expression. Bucky may be bigger, and stronger than Steve by miles, but Steve had something in him that was powerful, and white hot, and Bucky was astounded that he had forgotten that there was no way he could ever win an argument against him. He choked around the knot in his throat, suddenly feeling helpless, and panicked, because if he told him, Steve would hate him, but didn’t he deserve to know?

“I-” Bucky started, feeling the panic clawing at his insides, trying to see some way out of this that didn’t end with Steve hating him, that didn’t end with Steve getting hurt. He was trying to juggle two glass bombshells, and trying not to let either one of them shatter their relationship. “I’m sorry, it’s- I can’t-”

Steve could see Bucky’s eyes flashing, huge, and panicked, like a trapped animal, and suddenly the fire inside Steve’s chest cooled, dropping from a blazing inferno, to a warm, flicker tucked in the hearth of his soul. _“Hey…”_ Steve breathed, his expression easing, and he moved closer, gently taking his best friend's arms, his brow knitting with concern. “Hey...It’s okay Buck.. _.talk to me.._.what is it? What can’t you tell me?”

“Well that’s the problem isn’t it?” Bucky said, managing a tight laugh, but it was quivering, and strained, and Bucky felt Steve’s hand beginning to rub softly over his arms. He couldn’t see a good way out of this. No matter what way he looked at it, his property was gone for good, but he could have Steve and _still_ tell him the truth. Who would still want to be friends with someone who’d even _considered_ sexually exploiting them for a prize? How could Steve _ever_ care for him after that? “I- _can’t.”_

Steve’s mouth tightened just a hair, but the determination was softer now, more gentle, and he eased in closer, Bucky’s heart skipping a beat as his narrow chest almost brushed his. “Come on, don’t be a dumbass, you can tell me anything.” His tipped his face up, his lashes brushing his sharp cheekbones as he blinked, his mouth turning up in a faintly reassuring smile. “C’mon Buck. What are best friends for?”

_“You’re gonna hate me…”_ Bucky started helplessly, his heart in his throat. He was freaking out, he really should have been focusing more on how the _hell_ he was going to do this, but all he could think of was how close Steve’s mouth was. _Again._ Steve’s mouth was _always_ close, he didn’t know how Steve didn’t notice. It was always right within reach... _right there...so soft_ … Bucky swallowed stiffly. “You’re gonna freak out- cause- it’s stupid, and I- I shouldn’t but-”

Steve’s expression spasmed with impatience and concern, and he abruptly leaned forward, giving Bucky’s arms a sharp shake. _“Bucky!”_

_“I was in love with you!”_

The words broke out of Bucky’s mouth before he could stop them, and Steve went still as death. His expression froze, fingers still gripping into his arms, face slack with shock. Bucky felt his stomach sink.

“I- _remember_ being in love with you-” _This hadn’t been the bombshell he’d meant to drop._ Bucky could feel his face heating, his head throbbing as he scraped through the few solid memories he had of Steve, and knew that every one of them held the common thread of the _aching_ he’d held in his chest for _years._  “I don’t...have a lot of solid memories of us, but I- I remember feeling like...you were the best thing that had ever happened to me. I remember feeling like I wanted to kiss you, but I remember how you got whenever some guy would come on to you.” The words were coming easier now, each one breaking down the barrier for the next, and Bucky found himself speaking things that he hadn’t been consciously aware of until they had already spilled from his lips. “I remember how angry, and upset you get- and I never wanted you to feel that way because of _me,_ because- I...I didn’t want to ruin the _best_ friendship I’d ever had...and now...I don’t remember a lot...but I think I’m _still_ in love with you...and- i- _I really shouldn’t be telling you all this._..I’m sorry…”

Every thought in Steve's head had come crashing to a devastating halt. His logic and capability to process had been leveled to a twisted, smoking heap of wreckage. His eyes were huge behind the rims of his glasses, mouth parted as he stared at Bucky in outright disbelief. _This couldn't be real._ Steve had ached to know that Bucky love him back since the time he was a child, he'd craved it for so long that it had shifted in his mind to some unattainable dream. Bucky. His best friend. Loving him back the way Steve had _always_ loved him. He'd all but given up on it, all but settled his heart that he would never sacrificed the friendship they had on the slim chance that his feeling could be returned. Because Bucky was _everything._ He was charming, and smart; he had a quick wit and a smile that made Steve's heart turn over in his chest. He was _gorgeous,_ and Steve couldn't imagine that someone like Bucky could love someone like _him._

Yet Bucky was staring at him with raw, open honesty. _He loved him_. He loved him _still,_ even after everything that had happened, even _years_ later, he loved Steve the same way Steve had always loved him. He loved him, and he was afraid Steve didn't love him back. And the realization made his head spin, because _how_ could Bucky think he didn't love him? How could he even _consider_ that -if Bucky would have him- Steve wouldn't jump at the chance to kiss him, to be touched like a lover; to be _his._

"What-" Steve started helplessly, his grip faltering on Bucky's arms, "Why did you- how-" Steve couldn't think. He could put words to the tangled knot of feelings that forced their way up his throat. This was the one thing that he'd thought would make his life make perfect sense, and suddenly, _nothing_ made sense at all.

_"How could you think I wouldn't love you?"_

Bucky's eyes snapped up, and met Steve's. The younger boy's eyes were searing into his own, burning with an emotion Bucky couldn't name; caught between confusion and disbelief, between frustration, and love. He blinked, the implication of Steve's words suddenly sinking into him, burning through his skin and settling deep into his bones. "I-" He faltered, "I thought... You always hated it when all those guys would come onto you- I thought-"

"All those guys were _assholes_ Buck!" Steve almost snapped, more baffled than anything else, his eyes wide as he stared at the confusion on Bucky's face. He didn't blame Bucky for things he couldn't remember, but how could he not have known? How could he have not known that _Bucky_ was who he'd wanted all along. "They liked me because they saw me as some twink that they could to push around! They objectify me and expected me to take that as a _compliment!_ And even on the occasion that there was someone who was half-decent, I turned them down because I was still in love with _you-"_ The strength abruptly went out of Steve's voice, the intensity draining from his face as his chin suddenly dropped to his chest, his hands curled lightly into the sleeves of Bucky's jacket as his long, dark lashes lowered to brush his cheeks. "I was _always_ in love with you..." His voice was little more than a breath now, and Bucky felt the sudden, burning need to draw him into a crushing hug, but Steve had already drawn another shaky breath, his flushed lips parting to speak. "I've been in love with you since before I even knew how love was supposed to _work,_ and I always thought... _You saw me.._.you saw me the way those guys _never_ did...but I didn't think you could ever love me back because...you were my whole world... _and I was just part of yours..."_

Steve couldn't lift his gaze from the ground. He couldn't look Bucky in the eyes, not when he didn't know what he'd see there, not after being more honest with Bucky than he'd ever been; even with himself. Without warning, Bucky's arms tugged free of Steve' hold, and suddenly, they were around him. Steve stifled a choke of surprise, abruptly feeling Bucky draw him close, his arms tightening around his shoulders, his nose pressing into the side of Steve's neck. His felt his weak heart stall in his chest.

Bucky felt like his lungs were going to explode. He felt like he was going to break, and all he knew was that he couldn't let go. He drew Steve tighter against him, pressing in, breathing in his scent, and feeling the way he quivered just slightly in his arms; tense, and shocked. Bucky tucked his face deeper into the gentle curve of Steve's neck, his mouth pressed just below his ear, brushing against the fragile, vulnerable skin. "I don't know much about what my whole world was," Bucky breathed, his air hot against Steve's neck, and the smaller boy shivered in his arms. "But I _know_ that isn't true."

Steve swallowed hard, his face pressed in against Bucky's chest, his hands just daring to rest on his waist. He could feel himself shivering, but he couldn't stop. It was the conversation he'd rehearsed in his head his whole like, the conversation he'd _never_ imagined he'd actually _have._ Bucky nuzzled closer, actually _nuzzling_ his neck, and sparks crackled up Steve's spine, dancing across his nerves and lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach that warmed all the way out to his fingers and toes.

"Nothing I remembered _ever_ felt right." The words were whispered directly against Steve's skin, Bucky's finger pressing lightly into Steve's soft flesh through his clothing. "I didn't ever remember something that _really_ felt complete, not until you.. _.You were what was missing.._.nothing was right without you..." Bucky felt Steve shift in his arms, and he slowly drew back, just enough to see Steve's face, still drawn with shock, and disbelief; just enough to move one hand from his back to carefully take his jaw. Steve's bones felt sharp under his skin, and Bucky's finger lightly framed his face, ever so gently lifting it to his. His mouth was still parted, eyes nothing shy of tormented with the lifelong insecurity of beleiving Bucky could never feel the same way that he felt for him. And slowly, Bucky eased in, his forehead brushing Steve's, his breath warm on his lips.

"I love you..."

Steve felt dizzy, his head buzzing, knees weak. _Bucky loved him_. He _loved_ him, and every word Steve had ever thought to say to him dried up in his throat. He tipped his chin up, exhaling shakily against Bucky's lips, his eyes falling helplessly closed. How had this happened? He'd thought he'd lost Bucky for good, how had it ever happened that he'd gotten him back, and not only gotten him back, but that he _loved_ him? _How had it ever happened that Bucky could love him?_

Bucky's fingers slid tenderly down Steve's jaw until he was just holding his chin, until his thumb rested just below Steve's plush lower lip, and his curled index finger held his face tipped up towards his. "Can I kiss you?" He whispered, thinking of nothing else; thinking of nothing but have Steve's soft mouth against his, of having his trust to hold him so intimately. He'd forgotten everything but this...just this...

Steve swallowed hard, his head spinning. His mouth formed words before his brain even had a chance to think them through. "I think you'd probably better..." He breathed, some part of him still trying to cling to a shred of his normal wit and sarcasm, but the words just sounded like a prayer. _Please- I've been waiting for this my whole life- please...._

And suddenly, Steve's stomach dropped out from under him as Bucky leaned forward, and touched his mouth to his.

Bucky drew Steve into the kiss, soft and tender; tugging him in gently by his chin. His wet, red lips, pressed against his, the kiss soft, and chaste, and so tender it made Steve's heart stutter in his chest. He claimed Steve's mouth so sweetly Steve forgot how it had ever felt to think he didn't love him, he forgot everything but just this second. He forgot aching for him. He forgot resigning himself to never being able to love anyone the way he loved Bucky. All Steve knew was the softness of Bucky's lips against his, and the thrill that prickled up his spine at the realization that -with Bucky's mouth against his- he'd never felt so alive.

Bucky's left arm slid around the back of Steve's shoulders, drawing him close, holding his tiny frame against him as he got lost in the kiss, his lashes fanned out across his cheeks, his mouth still claiming Steve's. Steve's hands had found their way into the front of his shirt, bunching the fabric in loose fists as he clung to him, not wanting him to pull away, not wanting the kiss they'd both pinned for since the time they were boys, to end. But Bucky could feel himself getting lightheaded, he could feel his head pounding as memories, and feelings flooded back with a speed, and intensity he'd never felt before. He could see individual memories of Steve flashing through his mind; moments, and hours, and days that they'd spent together, experiences they shared, and nights they'd spent, curled up in each other’s warmth. Kissing Steve shattered a door in Bucky's mind that had been locked; bulging at the seams under the weight of his memories, and now, they flooded through his mind like a torrent of water; like a flood, saturating _every_ part of Bucky's life that Steve had ever touched.

He drew back with a soft gasp, Steve's chin tipping up to chase to contact, but he stopped as Bucky rested his forehead against Steve's breathing heavily. "Bucky?" Steve breathed, his fingers flexing in his shirt, his nose brushing softly against Bucky's as they stood, chest to chest in the middle of Steve's cramped dorm room. "You alright?"

Bucky nodded shakily, and even the head splitting pain of the rush of memories felt like nothing in the face of having Steve cradled in his arms. "Yeah..." He whispered, voice ragged. "Yeah- fine, I just... _god_ \- I remember how much I always wanted this...always wanted _you..."_ He felt Steve shift in his arms, and Bucky slowly managed to open his eyes, seeing his gorgeous, sharp cheekbones flush with color. He reached up with a shaky smile, the hand that had cradled his chin coming up to brush over his vividly pink cheeks. "I wanted you _so bad._.." Bucky whispered, tracing down his cheek and then over his lips, blinking in a daze as he stared at the boy in his arms. _"God-_ Every memory I have of you...I wanted to kiss those gorgeous pink lips...Every one... _Every fucking one_ I wanted to know what it'd feel like to have you want me the way I wanted you...My best friend...My Stevie... _I've been in love with you my whole life..."_

Steve found his throat tightening at the affection, his eyes stinging as the realization crashed into the deepest part of his heart that the one he'd loved as long as he could remember had loved him just as long. _My Stevie._..It sounded so sweet falling from Bucky's lips, so tender, so absolutely real...His touch was soft, and affectionate as he grazed his cheeks and jaw, and Steve felt himself smiling against his fingertips as he delicately brushed over his flushed lips.

"You're a sap Barnes...Always have been..." He murmured, his stiff fingers uncurling from his shirt to reach up and take Bucky's face in his hands. He looked up at him, eyes soft, and warm with the kind of raw, open affection that Bucky had craved for as long as he could remember. "You're fucking _perfect..."_ And this time, it was Steve who took Bucky's jaw in his hands, and brought their mouths together into a tender kiss. It was Steve who cradled him close, and it was Steve who tentatively deepened the affection.

Bucky's stomach swooped as Steve’s slender arms came up to wrap around the back of his neck, the thick, cushy knit of his sweater soft against Bucky's neck and ears. He could feel Steve's boney rib cage against his muscular chest, his heartbeat fluttering against his own. He could feel Steve rocking back and forth just slightly on the balls of his feet as he craned up into the kiss. Bucky let out a soft sound against his lips, his right arm wrapping firmly around Steve's waist as he held him against him, heat spilling into his stomach as Steve took Bucky's lower lip into his mouth. He almost felt his knees go weak, Bucky's head going fuzzy with pleasure as Steve carefully ran his tongue over the swell of his lip, teasing the tender flesh, making Bucky's heart turn over in his chest. Another low sounds slipped from his throat, and Bucky felt Steve let out a soft huff that could have almost been a laugh, and he pressed closer. His soft pink mouth turned up in a smile, his teeth just barely grazing Bucky's lip before he let it slide, soft and slow, out of his mouth, before he pressed back against him into the kiss. The shock had faded, leaving Steve with pure, unadulterated joy, and relief. _Bucky felt so good._ His lips were so warm against his own, the sensation overwhelming him, leaving him dizzy, and giddy. He dragged his fingers through Bucky's hair, parting his lips into the kiss and Bucky complied.

_He was just along for the ride._

Bucky's mind had gone completely blank of anything but the pleasure of Steve's kiss; and Steve could do _anything._ Steve could do _anything_ he like to him, and Bucky would take it, and _love_ it. His knees felt like jello, his head stuffed with cotton as Steve deepened the kiss and teased at his lower lip. His scrawny arms felt secure, and grounding around his neck, and the flutter of his heart beat against his own tied Bucky to the moment, solidifying that this was real- this was _real-_ Steve loved him! He wanted to kiss him- Bucky was allowed to hold him- to know Steve wanted him in exactly the same way Bucky wanted him.

Steve's mouth broke softly from his, his lips still catching slightly, damp and warm against Bucky's. He was smiling breathlessly, his eyes closed, arms still twisted around Bucky's neck. "How'd this happen?" Steve breathed raggedly. "How'd I get you back... _How'd this happen?"_

_It had happened because Bucky had tried to exploit him._

The guilt slamming into Bucky like a bucket of lead, and his stomach abruptly tightened into a sick knot. He felt nauseous. Everything that had happened in his past week; meeting Steve, falling in love with him all over again, kissing him...it had all happened because Bucky had approached Steve in the hopes of using him for his own selfish gain. And now Steve was in love with him, and Bucky's guilt was eating him alive. Even the softness of Steve's perfect lips closing softly over his own wasn't enough to shake him out of the horrible, sick fog of toxic guilt that had clogged every pore in Bucky's body, and torn his sense of reasoning to shreds.

_He couldn't do this._

Abruptly, Bucky wrenched out of the kiss, Steve physically startling as Bucky untangled his arms from around him, pulling away from Steve with movements bordering on panic. "No- no, no, no- I can't" Bucky blurted, backing away from Steve with his heart in his shoes. "I- I can't, I can't- I'm so sorry- I can't I- Steve-"

Steve startled as Bucky pushed himself away from him, wrenching away like Steve had burned him. His heart jolted in his chest, his thoughts suddenly spiraling down a hundred negative paths at once. _‘Bucky doesn’t really remember.’ ‘He tried to make himself remember by kissing me, and he hated it.’ ‘He’s disgusted by me.’ ‘I repulse him.’_ Steve took a stumbling step back, suddenly hyper aware of his own body in all it’s imperfections, suddenly wondering why he’d believed that Bucky loved him; that Bucky thought him beautiful. The anxiety that Steve had coped with in waves and lulls his whole life suddenly reared it’s head with sickening ferocity.

_Oh god._

_He’d ruined everything._

“Buck-” Steve managed, his skin suddenly crawling, the fluttering in his heart suddenly twisting in on itself into a cold, slimy knot that dropped into the pit of his stomach like a weight. “I’m- I’m sorry-” He stammered, head spinning, eyes burning. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry Buck- I-” _What the hell just happened? He’d been so sure-_

In the moment it had taken Bucky to physically wrench himself away from Steve, Bucky realized what he’d done. He registered the look on Steve’s face, and realized what his actions meant to him; what his abrupt cut of contact told Steve.

His heart dropped.

“Oh god, Steve- _no-_ no this isn’t your fault- “ He blurted abruptly, suddenly surging forward and grabbing Steve’s face in his hands. The other boy looked sick, the flush having drained from his face, his eyes wide, and bright with tears. “This is _my_ fault-” Bucky pressed, moving close, feeling Steve’s narrow, heaving chest against his. “ _This is my fault_ \- everything- _everything’s_ been my fault from the minute I found you- I’m so sorry-”

Steve blinked rapidly, his thoughts snapping so fast he got mental whiplash. _What was he saying- what- what the fuck was even going on-_ Steve couldn’t tell if Bucky love him or hated him. He couldn’t tell whether Bucky wanted him or not, because one moment he was kissing him like he was the only thing on the goddamn planet that matters, and then the next, he was shoving him off; pushing him away. Now he was holding Steve’s face in his jaw and apologizing- for _what?_ What was his fault? _What was so bad that Bucky couldn’t even string together a full sentence?_

Steve dragged in a ragged breath, his eyes raking up to Bucky’s, anxiety thrashing in coils in his gut. “ _What the hell is happening?”_ He breathed, his voice breaking. Bucky’s actions had thrust him into a tailspin, and he was reeling. _He couldn’t get his feet under him. Nothing made sense._

Bucky felt sick, and he swallowed hard, his heart in his throat. Apparently _one_ relationship changing bombshell hadn’t been enough. He had to drop _three_ on Steve all in the same week. ‘ _I don’t remember you.’ ‘I love you.’ ‘I’m using you’_ “Okay-” Bucky managed, his voice strangled, his thoughts a mess. “I- I’m gonna tell you this now, because if I don’t, I’ll never work up the nerve, and then somehow it’s gonna come out at the worst possible moment, and then you’ll hate me forever. So I’m gonna tell you right now, and hope that you’ll only hate me for a little while, because _everything_ I just told you was true- I love you- Steve- I love you and it’s not fair for me to keep this from you-”

_“Bucky!”_ Steve broke out, his eyes flashing with something bordering panic. “Just fucking _say it!”_

_“It was a BET!”_

Bucky’s hands dropped from Steve’s face, and he stepped back, dizzy, and sick, his head threatening to split open from the incessant throbbing. “It was a _bet.”_ He rasped, his voice little more than a ragged croak. “Before I knew you- r- _remembered_ you- the fraternity I’m in made a bet...they wanted to see who could get you in bed first- They bet something I owned- something they stole from me...I...wanted to get it back, but- I didn’t want to hurt you- hurt _anyone…”_ Bucky could feel his cheeks burning, shame clawing at his heart with ragged, broken talons, leaving him feeling raw, and exposed. “I thought...better me than them at least...I _knew_ they’d be pushy...and there wasn’t a _one_ of them who’d treat you right, so I thought- I could be gentle...I didn’t want to hurt you, _ever-_ not even before I’d even seen you up close...and then I met you.. _.and you knew me…”_

Bucky could see the horror dawning in Steve’s eyes as he took a stumbling step backwards, sinking down on the edge of his bed. He looked nauseous, he looked _betrayed._ It was that look at Bucky had hoped he would never have to see. “I know, you’re probably not gonna believe me on this- on _anything_ anymore, but...for what it’s worth, I knew from that same night, that I couldn’t do that to you...I thought- maybe I could just drop it, and never mention it ever, and...you wouldn’t have to know...but...that was wrong, and I really knew that all along.” Bucky dragged in a ragged breath, wishing he could know what churned just under the surface of Steve’s mind; whether or not he believed him, whether or not he could see anything past Bucky having intended to use him.

_“You were gonna do that to me?_ ” Steve whispered, his voice dropped away to almost nothing, his eyes fixed, and Bucky felt like he’d taken a knife to the gut.

“I thought- I was-” Bucky bit down on his tongue so hard it made his eyes sting before he drew in a long breath through his nose, and faced up to what he’d done. _“Yeah…”_ He choked out, his chest tight, lungs burning. Steve didn’t move, he just sat on the edge of the bed, staring off to some point far past Bucky, his face ashen, jaw slack. There was a knot of tension between his brows.

“Everything you just said...telling me you loved me...telling me you remembered wanting me since the time we were kids, that was...that was all to get me to have _sex_ with you?” He eyes abruptly snapped to Bucky and he felt like he’d been slapped across the face. Steve’s gaze was sharper than a knife, and burning with accusing hurt and fury. His teeth locked, a muscle twinging in his jaw as his entire body bristled with tension, daring him; just _daring_ him to deny it.

_But Bucky would._

_“Not that-”_ The words almost came out as a snap, so sharp, and desperate that Steve almost flinched, and Bucky’s expression abruptly crumpled. Bucky let the trembling in his knees get the best of him and he slumped down on the edge of Steve’s bed, the fragile boy drawing away from him with bared teeth; with the look of a cornered, injured animal. “ _Not that_ …” Bucky breathed again, his words soft, and pleading, and he raised his eyes to Steve, desperate for him to somehow understand. “I wanted to tell you for _days_ now, come clean about why I approached you in the first place but I...I was scared...I remembered loving you, and I thought- if you knew...you’d never- you couldn’t-”

Bucky’s words broke off and he fell into silence, the fight going out of his body, his eyes dropped miserably away. Somehow, even in coming clean to Steve, he’d lost him. He was never going to believe him, and all Bucky would ever have were those few, misguided minutes between Bucky’s panicked confession of his feelings, and Steve finding out the truth. The boy he’d loved his whole life...and he’d lost him over a mistake made before he’d even known who he was.

“Bucky.”

It was caught between a statement, and a question, and Bucky’s eyes snapped up, his gaze laced with misery, his stomach in knots, his head throbbing with pain. Steve was staring dead ahead of him, his expression set, and slowly, he dragged his eyes over to Bucky, fury still crackling through the network of his veins. Bucky met his gaze, and felt his heart nearly stall in his chest.

“Look me in the eyes and _tell_ me you’re not lying to me.” Steve hissed between his teeth, his narrow chest heaving raggedly, rage, and confusion, and pain warring for dominance on his face.

Bucky felt his mouth go dry, his heart stuttering as he was paralyzed by the sheer ferocity of Steve’s expression. The younger boy’s body was prickling with anger, and his eyes were laced with pain. Steve was furious, but something in him flinched under all the deception. Something inside him, something deeply buried, and _extremely_ fragile wanted to _sob;_ begging an explanation for why the boy he loved would do something like this to him. Bucky parted his lips, his eyes locking dead level with Steve’s.

_“I’m not lying to you…”_

And suddenly, all the tense, burning rage spilled out of Steve’s body, and he crumbled under the weight of the hurt. Steve rolled his shoulders forward, suddenly tucking his head between his knees and hugging his arms around his fragile ribcage as though trying to hold himself together; trying to keep himself from bursting. He let out a raw, shuddering breath, and Bucky felt the panic racing around his body cool into sickening guilt.

_“Steve…”_ Bucky whispered helplessly, shifting closer. His hand hovered above his back, uncertain, fearful, before he swallowed back the knot in his throat and slowly eased his left arm over Steve’s shoulder. He shuffled closer, hip to hip with Steve’s drawn huddled figure as he stooped down. Bucky bent double at the waist, his right hand moving to take Steve’s quivering arm and Bucky eased his face closer, gently resting his chin on the cap of his bony shoulder. “Steve,” He pressed again, soft, and broken, drawing him gently closer and Steve merely swayed with the gentle tug. “Steve...I’m so sorry...I was wrong...I was fucking _stupid...I don’t wanna hurt you_ …” Steve was completely unresponsive, his face hidden, his shoulders hunched. Everything Bucky said seemed to roll right off his stooped shoulder.

Bucky wet his lips, trying to think of something- _anything_ to make Steve even _look_ at him again. He nuzzled closer, his chin lightly settling into the joint between Steve’s neck and shoulder, his mouth right beside his ear. “Y’know…” Bucky said softly, his voice low, and apologetic. “When we kissed...I remembered a lot of things...It’s not all there about us...not by a long shot, but there was some stuff. I remember little fragments of a _hundred_ times I wanted to kiss you. I remember some specific time, like when we were at some kind of beach together, and you’d just come up out of the water...I remember you had your hair streaming down your face, and the sun hit your skin and made it look like gold...I could see all the freckles across your shoulders, and neck, and then your cheeks when you push your hair back out of your face...and I wanted to kiss you _so fucking bad…”_

Steve was listening now. His head had canted just slightly, his breathing changing as he listened with rapt attention, but his body language was still cold, and closed. “I remember other times, like on my birthday, when I thought maybe I could sneak a kiss when you were blindfolded for the pinata...or when you’d gotten in a fight, and I was cleaning the blood of your mouth...but mostly...it was just snippets of random days...it made me realize that I must have wanted to kiss you _every day of my entire life…”_ Bucky’s fingers trailed softly down Steve’s arms, brushing over the soft, pale skin, his lashes lowered as he spoke. “I messed up Steve...I messed up so fucking bad...but...I don’t regret _all_ of it...because if it hadn’t been for that stupid bet...I never would have found you again...I never would have remembered you, or realized that I was still in love with you…” He swallowed hard, a shiver running up his spine and he turned his head in, slowly, carefully; gently tucking his mouth against Steve’s ear.

_“I am…_ ” He breathed softly, letting out a low breath. _“I am_ in love with you...I know you probably can’t believe me, or trust me, but...it’s still true…” And then Bucky took a calculated risk, and very carefully pressed his lips to the side of Steve’s neck in a tender, chaste kiss. _“I love you Steve…_ ” Bucky whispered against his skin, before closing his eyes, and bracing for the backlash.

But Steve didn’t recoil at the kiss. For a second, he was utterly still; and then Steve shifted his weight to the side, and _slumped_ into Bucky’s lap.

Bucky almost startled, shifting back slightly to allow Steve room before his fragile weight pressed in against him, and Bucky quickly moved to cradle Steve close. He closed his arms in around him, bending over his slumped figure and pressing soft kisses into his hair, stroking his back and shoulder, and gently carding his fingers through his hair. Slowly, Steve came around, and he shifted his head; red eyes dragging up to Bucky’s face, but his lips stayed pressed together, and Bucky felt a tug of guilt in the pit of his stomach. “Steve?” Bucky whispered, his fingers tangling through the boy’s soft blond locks. “Say something? _Please?”_

Steve’s mouth tightened, his jaw shifting as his eyes dropped away, before his voice came out in a strangled rasp. “I’m pissed beyond _anything_ I could _possibly_ say to you.” Bucky’s stomach plunged, his hands freezing through his hair. And suddenly, Steve’s face softened, his jaw loosening as he let out a low, ragged breath. “I dunno if you remember Buck- but this ain’t this first time I’ve been pissed at you, and it ain’t gonna be the last, just-” He faltered, his brow drawing, and Steve huffed a sigh, pressing his face into Bucky’s lap. “Just...give me a little time...I’m fucking pissed…” His words were muffled against Bucky’s jeans, and the older boy felt his heart give a little tug, his fingers resuming their gentle carding through Steve’s hair.

He felt him shift in his arms, and Steve’s hands slid up underneath him, curling into the material over Bucky’s thighs, seeming to need something to hold to as he lay; slumped in Bucky’s lap, with Bucky’s fingers dragging over his scalp. “ _M’fucking pissed…_ ” He mumbled again, and this time, a pained smile managed to pull at Bucky mouth. The older boy stooped, and pressed a soft kiss against Steve’s hair.

“I love you…” He breathed against his hair, and Steve pressed his face deeper against Bucky’s thigh, his fingers tightening in his jeans as his shoulder hunched downward.

“Shut your stupid mouth Barnes, I’m pissed at you.”

_“I love you,_ ” Bucky pressed again, smiling tentatively now as Steve squirmed, and then abruptly wrenched away.

“I said _shut up!”_ Bucky’s heart faltered in his chest as Steve yanked away from him and stalked to the other side of the room, his shoulder drawn up, his head ducked away. And Bucky’s hope sank. For one, fraction of a moment, he’d _almost_ felt an ease between them, just the hint of a joke- a gentle tease that would make Steve smile, that would help him on his way to forgiving him. But one press too far, and Steve was just as furious with him before.

_He should stop trying to fix things. Every time he’d tried, he’d only made everything so much worse._

With his heart sinking like lead in his chest, Bucky shifted up off of Steve’s bed, turning to walk to the door. Steve was probably better off without him. He certainly wouldn’t want him around anymore. He should really just go-

_“Bucky-”_

Bucky stopped dead, his hand already turning the doorknob when he heard the tiny voice behind him. He turned quickly, his heart breaking out of the shell of lead that had encased it, suddenly in his throat once more, beating frantically.

Steve was standing exactly where he’d left him, his shoulders still hunched, head still ducked; but his face was turned towards Bucky, and the gaze he fixed him with was softer, and more hopeful, though it was still laced with hurt. _“I love you too…”_  Bucky blinked rapidly, the knot in his gut suddenly easing, the hope that had twisted into an empty, dried husk suddenly blooming back to life. Steve’s gaze faltered, and then dropped away, the younger boy turning to rest his exhausted body against the desk. “Will you...call me tomorrow?...”

He nodded hurried, before forcing the words past his dry, sticky throat. “Yeah-” Bucky breathed. “Yeah, _absolutely...I-_ I should-”

“You should go-”

“Yeah- yeah...sorry…”

Bucky’s eyes flickered to Steve one more time, before he steadied the slamming beat of his heart, and slipped out of Steve’s room. It wasn’t over. He hadn’t lost him. Maybe for a little while he had, but Steve was hurt, not broken. Bucky still had a chance to fix this...He could still win back Steve’s trust, and maybe- if he was very, very careful- his love.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be up soon! Let me know what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky fucking _hated_ having Steve angry at him.

He hated not hearing the little chime on his phone signifying that a text had come in from him. He hated the feeling of guilt, and tension in his gut that came with knowing Steve was alone, and upset. It was even worse knowing that _he_ was the cause of it; that he was the last person Steve wanted to see...That fucking _hurt._ And Bucky knew he deserved every bit of it.

He’d laid in his bed in his own room in the frat house and shifted restlessly, slipping in and out of sleep. It was out of his hands. He’d told Steve. He’d fessed up to what he’d done wrong- or, what he’d been _intending_ to do wrong. Steve had reacted about the way Bucky had expected. He had been hurt, and confused, and viciously angry. The one thing Bucky hadn’t expected though, was the sliver of hope Steve had left him with. He’d asked for time. He hadn’t told Bucky he never wanted to see him again, he hadn’t told Bucky he hated him.

_He’d just asked for time._

-.-

The days were just now turning towards chilly, and a little orange was beginning to peek through at the very edges of the leaves. Bucky could feel the bite of the cool air on his cheeks as he walked briskly across the campus, his hands in his pockets, his mind on Steve. He'd asked Bucky to call him today, but every time Bucky picked up his phone, he second guess himself that it was too soon. Timing was crucial, and if he called before Steve had had long enough to process, he could risk making everything so much worse. His fingers twitched on his phone in the pocket of his coat, his eyes flickering across the campus square when suddenly his heart involuntarily lurched into his throat.

_Steve_

The slender bond sat on one of the low, polished stone benches that lined the outsides of all the buildings, his backpack set beside him, his glasses low on his nose. He was wearing a cushie, dark red, knit sweater over a tan, plaid button up, just the collar visible over the neckline. He sat with his hands braced on the bench, his legs crossed loosely at the ankles, and beside him, one of the most _stunning_ women Bucky had ever seen.

Bucky was gay, but he wasn't blind.

The woman beside Steve was _gorgeous._ She had dark, chestnut hair done up in large, soft curls. Her figure was full, and shapely, framed strikingly in a long, military-olive peacoat, and her features were done up in smokey gray eyeshadows and blood red lips. Steve was smiling at her, his gaze open, and affectionate, and she returned the expression with equal warmth. There was something between them that hinted at a long, and affectionate history. She was more than a stranger Steve had stopped to chat with in passing.

It could still be the wrong time, but seeing Steve was almost more than Bucky could take; so he swallowed back the knot of anxiety in his throat, and turned to walk across campus towards them. He could hear his heart in his ears. He felt hyper aware of everything Steve did even from yards away. He could see the corners of his eyes crinkling behind the frames of his glasses, hear the little laugh that rattled from his bony chest at something the woman had said. He just had to talk to him, just for a minute; just to feel out how ready Steve was to see him. If he was still closed, Bucky would walk away immediately. He’d leave, and wait however long Steve needed to be comfortable talking to him again. He just needed to know- _He just needed to know._

He could tell the second Steve saw him.

His easy stream of words faltered and then died, his deep, soft voice going oddly quiet mid-sentence. The woman reacted too, her red lips tightening as she slid a careful glance over to Steve, seeming to gauge his face for a reaction, decide if intervention was necessary. Bucky felt heat flush across the back of his neck, feeling sick that he was perceived as a threat to Steve, even by _one_ person. Yet at the same time, some part of him was weirdly grateful; grateful that Steve had people in his life who cared about him enough to be worried. _He_ certainly didn’t have anything like that. His feet dragged to a stop, and Bucky lifted his eyes slowly, his mouth dry as he met Steve’s gaze.

“Hey Steve…” He said softly, prepared to walk away at any indication that Steve didn’t want him there.

“Bucky…” Steve murmured, and the woman’s eyes snapped from Bucky, back to Steve, her sharp brows arching.

_“Bucky?”_ She repeated, and Bucky felt a twinge of surprise at the cadence of her accent. British for sure. Her voice sounded the way a cup of earl gray tasted; smooth, and silky, with an underlying bite. Bucky knew in a moment she wasn’t a woman to cross.

Steve blinked, and then stood awkwardly, his cheeks going a little pink. “Oh- yeah...Pegs, this is Bucky. Bucky, Peggy Carter.”

Peggy’s mouth turned up at the corners, but her gaze lost none of it’s sharpness as she extended a hand. “Mr. Barnes.” She said easily, the R in his last name almost lost in the midst of her accent.

_She knew his last name._ Shit. _They’d been talking about him._ That was the cause of the sharpness in her eyes; the underlying bite. Bucky steadied his breath and took the hand. “Ms. Carter.” He returned, although it didn’t come out as easily as he would have hoped.

“Uhm, Bucky, Peggy’s a friend of mine.” Steve said, and Bucky was relieved to hear him speak. Steve wasn’t so furious he couldn’t talk to him. The way he kept looking away from Bucky alluded to the fact that he was still upset, but he was composed, and he _wanted_ to introducing Bucky to his friend. He twisted absently at the thin, leather band of his watch around his wrist, his eyes darting from Bucky, back to the ground, and then back up again. “She came out to see me today, so-”

“Oh-” Bucky said quickly, releasing Peggy’s hand, already easing back a pace. “Sorry- no, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’ll just call later, l-like you asked.” He added, not so much because Steve needed to be reminded, but because he was afraid Peggy might misread it as harassment.

“Actually Mr. Barnes I was hoping I could have a word with you.”

Bucky blinked, and felt his stomach give a nervous little twist. “With me?” He asked, trying to seem more mildly surprised than sick with anxiousness and guilt.

“Yes,” Peggy continued easily, “You see, Steve and I have already had a lovely lunch and I should be heading back home soon, but I would like to speak with you for a moment before I go.”

Bucky buffered for just a second, and then nodded, glancing to where Steve had sunk back down on the bench. “Yeah, sure.” He said, the thrashing in his gut going oddly still. Something in him clicked into place, and everything in his churning mind went silent. _This was for Steve._ He’d hurt him and he had to take every responsibility for that, and that meant facing the people who cared about Steve too. He didn’t have secrets anymore. He’d lost his right to them, and whatever Peggy would ask of him to ensure Steve’s safety he would tell her. She deserved that. _Steve_ deserved that.

Turning back to Peggy with a new, odd sense of calm, Bucky let his mouth turn up into a small smile, and gesture to a ways away. Nodding once, Peggy followed after him, her high heeled boots clacking mutedly against the concrete sidewalks. Once they were out of range of Steve’s weak hearing, Bucky let his hands slip into his pockets, and turned to face Peggy with full understanding that he deserved everything she could possibly dish out to him. His steel blue eyes dropped to the ground, and then lifted to hers, a small, weary smile turning up one corner of his mouth. “I guess Steve musta been talking to you about me…” He started, _knowing_ that was the case. Peggy wouldn’t have looked at him the way she did if it wasn’t.

Peggy inclined her head in a graceful nod, her gaze still vigilantly locked on him. “He was. Steve has told me a lot about you, and I can honestly say today _isn’t_ the first I’ve heard of you. Although it _is_ the first I’ve heard that paints you as anything other than the closest person to Steve’s heart.”

_That hurt._

Bucky ducked his head, and Peggy continued. “Whenever Steve spoke of you he spoke of you with _explicit_ trust.” _Oh god-_ Bucky had underestimated how much this was going to sting. “He spoke of you as though he knew for certain that you would never do anything to harm him.” Bucky’s stomach was twisting back into that same knot. Peggy wasn’t even accusing him yet, and Bucky already felt like he needed to throw up.

“You _betrayed_ his _trust.”_

The words were spoken with such viciousness, and clarity that Bucky felt like he’d been punched. The air left his lungs, and Bucky felt his shoulders instinctively curl forward in abject misery. His chin dipped against the hollow of his throat, and heat flushed across his cheeks. He felt like something was eating a hole through the wall of his stomach.

“I know…”

Peggy blinked, just once, faltering for less than a second before glazing over it with her usual poise. “You understand then- What this does to him? You _know_ how much what you’ve done hurts him.”

Bucky was nodding before she’d even finished speaking. “Yeah-” He managed with a hollow, bitter bark of laughter. “Yeah, I know...it’s been eating me alive for the past twenty four hours...I can’t think of anything else, I- I can’t-” Bucky swallowed, feeling hyper exposed, especially coming apart at the seams under the scrutiny of someone so poised as Peggy. He dragged in a deep breath, slowly settling his shoulders back at looking up to meet her gaze, his expression drawn with guilt. “I’m not gonna defend myself...memories or not, it should never have even been an option….But I _do_ understand...and I know Steve’s not gonna trust me right away...or…” He faltered under her gaze, his stomach somehow sinking even lower. “O- Or _ever…”_

Again, Peggy nodded, just a slight inclination of her head, her eyes still focused on him. “Well you’re certainly not wrong.”  

Bucky managed a weak smile, his eyes dropped away before the expression slid from his face. The knot in his stomach shifted to his throat, and Bucky guilt morphed back into the aching pain that had raked at his heart since telling Steve the truth. He wet his full, red lips with a quick sweep of his tongue, his breath feeling frozen in his lungs. “I love him…” Bucky breathed, still feeling Peggy’s eyes burning into his skull, still feeling her caution, and judgment.

“You do?” It was more of a statement. There was no surprise in her tone, and Bucky heard the clack of her heels as she moved in, standing closer now, so that Bucky could see her shoes in the ducked field of his vision. “Then would you mind enlightening me - _and please do be as direct as possible-_ as to what your intentions are with Steve.”

Bucky let out a half breath. This wasn’t a baited question. Peggy wanted a straight answer, and Bucky could give it to her; simply, and without any trace of deception or uncertainty. “I’m gonna ask Steve to forgive me.” He started softly, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks. “If he’ll have me back...I’ll work to make this up to him- work to let him know that he can trust me...That he doesn’t _ever_ have to be afraid of me using him...Peggy...I don’t remember a lot of my past life...but I remember Steve...and I remember loving him for most of my life…” Bucky swallowed, exhaling slowly. “I love him, Peggy...I love him...I want to make him happy...wanna...make him feel safe...try and give him his best friend back…”

For a long moment, Peggy was silent, and Bucky couldn’t force his eyes up. His heart felt raw, it felt ragged, and scratched around the edges, and he wanted nothing more than to be with Steve, to let his company sooth it away. But he’d lost his privilege to touch Steve’s heart unopposed. To get back to Steve, he needed to get through Peggy, and Peggy would defend Steve’s heart from anyone she saw as unworthy.

And suddenly, Bucky felt his heart lurch with surprise as Peggy’s hand slipped up, and came to rest on the side of his jaw. “Look at me Barnes…” She instructed softly, her tone gentle, and soothing, and Bucky lifted his eyes to her. She was studying him closely, her hand surprisingly soft on his jaw. Her opposite hand came up, framing the other side of his jaw-

-and suddenly Bucky felt a sharp, pressing pain behind his ear.

Peggy’s eyes had gone steely. Her index finger curled, the pointed, blood-red nail digging directly into the soft nerve at the junction of Bucky’s jaw and ear. It pressed in, and up, and Bucky felt his knees suddenly go rubbery underneath of him.

_“Steve is very dear to me.”_ Peggy breathed, her voice a shimmering serpent; smooth, and quick, and utterly deadly. “He is dear to me, and many, _many_ others, so know this Mr. Barnes- Know this one thing, and take very good care not to forget it.” Bucky tried to nod, his mouth dropped open in surprise, and pain, but Peggy’s hands kept his face immobile. She leaned closer, her eyes locked on his, and the nail gave a painful, curling press.

“If you harm Steve, I will make certain you regret it. _Do we have an understanding?”_

Again, Bucky nodded; barely a jerk of his head considering how deeply Peggy’s nail was pressing into his nerve. His body felt numb, and aching at the same time, thrown by the shock, disoriented by how much pain a little bit of pressure on one, tiny point below his ear could bring. He tried to force sound up through his stunned throat, initially, only choking. “Y-Yeah-” Bucky gasped breathlessly, finally remembering how to make his vocal chords work. He blinked rapidly, the pressure making him feel oddly nauseous. He had been right to think Peggy wasn’t one to cross.

Peggy’s eyes ripped into him for a moment longer, before the pressure eased, and she smoothed her hands softly over his jaw before releasing him with a tight smile. “Very good Barnes.” She said briskly, abruptly turning on her heel and strolling back towards Steve with the air of one expecting to be followed. Clapping a shaky hand behind his ear, Bucky complied. When they reach the bench, Steve still sat right where they left him, but Bucky could ignore the nervous glance that flickered up to his face, and then surreptitiously dropped to Peggy’s knuckles. Bucky knew they had a long way to go, but it made his heart flutter none the less to know that at least some part of Steve was worried for him. He let a little, reassuring smile tug at the corners of his lips, and he caught just a twitch of affirmation at the corner of Steve’s; but then his eyes turned away from him again, and Bucky could feel the cold rolling back off his skin.

His eyes turned to Peggy instead. “Alright?” He asked easily, although Bucky knew in his gut that Steve had already guessed what had gone on in the past few minutes.

Peggy slid down onto the bench beside him, her smile warmth, as he rested her hand between Steve’s boney shoulder blades. “‘Course Darling, but I really should be making my goodbyes. I promised Angie I would be home for dinner.”

Steve gave an affectionate little snort, his eyebrows lifting slightly as that adorable, crooked smile pulled at his mouth. “Well, wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.”

A soft, warm laugh escaped Peggy’s lips, and Steve moved forward as she folded him in a secure hug, his chin nestling into her shoulder. “You underestimate Angie,” She said easily. “She wouldn’t let you.”

_“Or anyone for that matter.”_ Steve ribbed back, and drew away from Peggy with his hands resting on her forearms. “Take care Pegs…”

“You as well,” Peggy leaned into to affectionately kiss Steve’s cheek before rising to her feet, hands clasping in front of her. “Angie and the Howlie’s all send their love, they miss you.”

Steve leaned back on the palms of his hands, and Bucky watched like an outsider in his own story as Steve’s smile softened, and he looked at Peggy with the same warmth, and affection that had once belonged to Bucky. He tipped his chin slightly, head canted to the side. “I miss them all too...Tell them I’ll visit soon.”

Peggy nodded, and -with a final goodbye- turned to walk across the wide open campus, until her figure had disappeared all but entirely among the stone buildings and autumn leaves. And that left Bucky.

Suddenly, there was nothing left between him and Steve. There was no buffer. No meditator, and Bucky felt the nervousness that had -until now- fallen quite, suddenly snap back full force. Steve was _looking_ at him. He could feel his eyes flickering up to him, before dropping away again. He could feel the tension, and discomfort in his emotions.

“Well….You gonna sit down or something…” Steve muttered, and for a moment, Bucky was almost afraid he’d misheard. But Steve’s cheeks were pink with a mixture of embarrassment and agitation, and he’d shifted over just slightly to allow Bucky room on the bench. Slowly, Bucky took the bait, and eased down next to Steve’s slight, tense figure.

“Peggy’s a good friend…” Bucky started softly, his eyes fixed on his hands in his lap. “I’m...I’m glad you got someone like her…” For a long moment, Steve didn’t reply. He didn’t look over at him, or shift, or move at all. He just sat there, stiff, and quite, before-

“Did she punch you?”

Bucky snorted, the corners of his mouth turning up. “No-” He said with a short chuckle, the sound coming out tight, and strained. “No, she didn’t punch me, but I thought she might...I dunno that I would have put it past her.” The set of Steve’s mouth reflected Bucky’s slight smile, but it _looked_ as hollow as Bucky’s laugh _sounded,_ and Bucky felt a tug of pain in his chest. Steve looked so empty...like he’d vented all the hurt out of his body, and been left with nothing. He didn’t have a lot of memories with Steve, but Bucky was _certain_ he’d never seen him like this before, and it made Bucky feel sick. “Steve?” He pressed softly, still keeping his hands in his lap regardless of how much he wanted to draw the younger boy against him.

Steve felt his heart lurch at the sound of his name, and he lowered his sharp chin against his protruding collarbone, his eyes sliding away. He wasn’t sure he could take this, so Steve closed his heart off to any more disappointment, and braced for Bucky to defend himself.

_“What can I do?”_

Steve blinked, his eyes flashing over to Bucky. The other boy sat beside him, his expression soft, and apologetic, his gaze lingering on Steve. There was nothing defensive in his posture. There was nothing in Bucky’s eyes to suggest that he was going to try and excuse what he’d done. He wasn’t going to imply that Steve had overreacted, or try to diminish the severity of his actions, he was just _asking._

Steve dropped his gaze away, and he felt, more than heard, Bucky shift a little closer, his right hand taking his weight on the bench between them. “Stevie…” He tried again, his voice barely above a pleading murmuring, his hands itching to take the slender blond in his arms. “Stevie...talk to me...what can I do?...How can I fix this?”

“I don’t _know_ Buck.” The words were sharp, with a trace of a bite, and Bucky pulled back just a hair as Steve’s shoulders shifted away tensely. He dragged in a rattling breath, his weak lungs struggling to work around the knot that was lodged in his throat. “I- _I don’t know…”_

Bucky wet his lips anxiously, his heart aching as he saw the way Steve’s shoulders quivered with a mixture of pain, and tension. Bucky could be wrong- and shit if he hadn’t be wrong _a lot_ lately- but Steve didn’t look so much _angry_ anymore, as _hurt,_ and Bucky prayed it was the kind of hurt he could sooth. Moving carefully, Bucky shifted closer, his hands slipping up to very carefully rest on Steve’s arm.

Steve’s posture tightened for just a moment, bristling under the touch before going suddenly slack, his shoulder dropping as a ragged sigh fell from his lips. Just like yesterday, Steve gave in to Bucky’s gentle touch, slowly easing back until his bony back was settled against Bucky’s chest, and his arm could slip tenderly around Steve’s narrow middle. Bucky leaned gently into the contact, gathering Steve against him, and pressing his face into the crook of his neck, his thumb rubbing softly against Steve’s arm through the sleeve of his sweater. “Peggy said you trusted me... _before_ …” Bucky murmured into the side of Steve’s neck, his breath warm on the other boy’s chilly skin, and Steve shifted in his arms.

“Course I trusted you, bonehead…” Steve muttered, his tone still edge with hurt, but he craned into Bucky’s touch none the less. “You’re my best friend…”

Bucky swallowed, his chest aching, and he snugged his left arm a little more securely around Steve’s hollow stomach. “I’m sorry…” He breathed in his ear, the fingers of his right hand trailing softly up Steve’s arm, and across his shoulder and neck to drag gently through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m sorry I don’t remember everything about us...and I’m sorry I can’t really be who you remember…” Steve had gone utterly still now, his head and neck held stiffly as Bucky dragged his fingers tenderly through his hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth right away...but more than anything I’m sorry I hurt you Steve…” Bucky breathed, his voice tight, and strangled and his hand fell still, just resting against Steve’s collar. “I’m so... _so_ sorry I hurt you...I already knew I’d fucked up...but I had to tell you...I had to, cause even though I knew you’d be upset, I wanted it to come from me _now,_ and not someone else _months_ down the road…”

Bucky swallowed stiffly, wishing he could read something out of Steve’s stillness, but he could discern nothing past his mask of quiet. “I’m not...the person I was…” Bucky divulged quietly, ”I don’t know that much of him really made it through the accident cause _he_ wouldn’t have _ever_ hurt you…” His mouth pressed into a tight line, his chest aching inside his ribcage. “... _He was better than me,_ but...for what it’s worth...the part of him that loved you made it into... _whoever I am now_ , and...whoever I am now, _still_ loves you, and...wants to make this right…” Bucky dragged in a ragged breath, his eyes falling closed as he rested his forehead against the side of Steve’s neck and he exhaled slowly. “ _I’m sorry…”_

Steve was silent in his arms, and Bucky could feel his narrow chest rising and falling under his arm. He could feel the flutter of his pulse under his fingers. Slowly, Bucky felt Steve shift, his soft cheek brushing across the top of Bucky’s head as he craned his neck back, and his breath ghosted through his hair.“Buck…” Steve started hesitantly, Bucky’s heart jumping at the sound of his voice. “You’re….you’re _different_...but you’re still _Bucky_...you’re still my best friend…” Steve’s expression drew slightly, forming a knot between his brows as he rested his cheek against Bucky’s hair, the other boy’s face buried in the delicate curve of his neck. “What you did was wrong…” Steve breathed, feeling Bucky draw in a steadying breath behind him. “It was low, and it fucking _hurt...but_ you were honest with me when it mattered…”

Carefully, Steve drew away from Bucky, and the older boy relinquished his hold on him with a soft huff, allowing Steve to shift until he had one leg tucked underneath him, facing Bucky with his head bowed. “It’s still kinda raw...but I wanna make this work...I wanna believe that you meant all those things you said yesterday... _about loving me_...I really, _really_ wanna believe that.” Steve managed with a broken little huff of a laugh that betrayed more pain than anything else. “But -and I never thought I’d say this to you- but... _you’ve gotta be really careful with me_ , cause you deal another hit like that and-”

“And you’d never be able to trust me on anything ever again.” Bucky finished softly, and Steve’s clear, blue eyes snapped up to him.

“I was gonna said I’d punch your teeth in, Barnes, but.. _.that too_ …”

Finally, a soft laugh that didn’t feel hollow, and strained slipped from Bucky’s lips, and he reached out, carefully sliding his palm along Steve’s jaw until he could cradle the younger boy’s face in his hand. “Yeah- Yeah...and I’d deserve every bit of it…but you’re not gonna get the chance…” Bucky murmured, his tone softening as he eased Steve closer, his words dropping off; quiet, intimate, and deadly serious. _“Cause I’m not gonna hurt you again Steve…”_

Steve’s eyes dropped subtly to Bucky’s mouth before lifting to his eyes, the blond visibly swallowing. “You’d better not…” He whispered, his voice tight, but it sounded different this time; not tense, like he was upset, but more like he was trying to speak around a lump in his throat. “I’m _trusting_ you, alright, Buck? _Don’t make me regret it._ ”  Steve pressed, his forehead almost touching Bucky’s, eyes locked on his.

Bucky’s soft, red lips turned up into a faint smile, his lashes lowering, almost brushing Steve’s cheeks as their warm breath passed between them. _“You won’t…_ ” Bucky whispered, feeling a shiver run up Steve’s spine, and he closed his eyes, leaning in to brush the lightest of kisses against Steve’s mouth. It was delicate; close lipped, and chaste, but Steve returned it with as soft touch of his own, his hand coming to rest lightly on Bucky’s thigh as he cradled his angular jaw in his hand.

Bucky pulled back from the tender kiss, his eyes opening slowly to find Steve, still frozen in place, his mouth relaxed, eyes still fixed on Bucky. The kiss didn’t seem to have surprised Steve, but his eyes _did_ flicker with _something,_ and he abruptly drew away from Bucky with a faint smile.

“Moving a little fast, aren't you, Barnes?” He breathed, his hand quickly sliding off Bucky’s leg and he turned his chin out of the other boy’s cradling hand.

Bucky dropped his eyes away and tried to ignore the rapid slamming of his heart. “Yeah…” He murmured in return, “Sorry…” and suddenly something sparked inside him and his mouth curled up into a faint smirk. “But it’s not my fault you’re so fucking cute.”

_“Hey!”_ Steve elbow him sharply, and scooted away, but Bucky caught just the barest hint of a smirk on his plush, pink lips. But this time, Bucky knew that a hint of a joke didn’t ensure that his need for delicacy was over, so he didn’t chase the light tease. Steve had accepted it this time, but Bucky still had to treat him with care. So instead of pushing it, Bucky let Steve shuffle away, and didn’t tease further. Instead, he reached out and just lightly brushing his loosely curled knuckles against Steve’s spine, rubbing his back softly until he felt Steve easing back into the touch. Once he was sure the affection was mutually desired, Bucky gently slid in until he’d closed the space between them, continuing to rub Steve’s bony back as he leaned in to kiss the cap of his shoulder.

“I ever tell you how goddamn pretty you are Rogers?” He murmured against the knit of Steve’s sweater, his hand kneading softly into the muscle between Steve’s neck and shoulder, and he leaned into it a with a sigh.

“I ever tell you you’re a fucking _suck up?”_ He muttered, and Bucky gave a surprised snort.

“Come on Stevie,” He prodded, this time kissing the exposed skin right at the collar of his sweater. “I’m tryin’ta make this up to you…”

_“Keep trying.”_

Bucky could have almost been discouraged, but at that second, he caught just a glimmer of a smile on Steve’s lips, and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. Steve was bristled sharper than a porcupine, but it was all a front. Every time Bucky’s fingers massaged into the muscle of his back Steve’s eyelids would flutter, and Bucky’s light kisses brought color to his cheeks. Bucky didn’t doubt he still had a long way to go for them to really be past this, but it settled, warm, and comforting in the pit of his stomach to realize that Steve was teasing him. Under all the layers, and hardened edges, Steve’s sharp _‘keep trying’_ translated more accurately to a soft, whispered _‘Don’t stop…’_

Bucky kisses a little higher on Steve’s neck, the kisses still light, and innocent; affectionate, not sensual. After a moment, he settled himself right up against Steve, and drew away from his neck, focusing only on rubbing out the knots in his back and shoulder, using the heel of his prosthetic left hand to circle over the bigger knots, while his more precise right worked deep into the narrow grooves of his muscles.

“Where’d you meet Peggy?” Bucky asked, equal parts curious, and wanting to get Steve talking. Anything at all would do, so he picked something he genuinely wanted to know.

Steve blinked, for a second, not responding to the question, not out of any lingering frustration towards Bucky, but because his mind had gone numb, and fuzzy under the relentless, _amazing_ pressure of Bucky’s hands. “Peggy?” He repeated, blinking again to ground himself, and letting out a low sound as Bucky pressed deeply into a sore point under his right shoulder blade. “I- I met Peggy after moving to New York City…” He managed, finally getting his mind caught up to the moment, and not dragged behind into the absolute _puddle_ Bucky was making out of his body.

“In the city I was kind of- invisible...It was like the people back home who’d ignore me cause I was scrawny, and sick, but a hundred times worse. The only person I knew for a hundred miles was Erskine, so...that got pretty rough.” Steve’s lips pressed together to muffle a soft sound as Bucky pressed and turned his thumb into the knot he was working on, and Bucky felt a secret little thrill of pleasure as Steve sunk into the massage. “I met Peggy at a gallery Erskine had pointed out to me. We talked a lot, about art, about me, ‘bout her...and suddenly I wasn’t alone anymore. We actually dated for a little while,” Steve added as a side-note, and Bucky faltered. He couldn’t say he was necessarily _surprised,_ but hearing Steve say it anyways took him aback. He blinked, running his tongue quickly over his lips before beginning to massage Steve’s back again, letting him continue. “We were together for a few months, and I really cared about her, but...Peggy knew before I did that I was still in love with _you...She_ broke it off and, it was kind of funny, because...it hurt like hell, but at the same time I was relieved...I _loved_ Peggy, but, I was _in_ love with you...I think she knew all along there was a difference.”

Bucky listened silently, drinking in Steve’s words. _He was right._ Bucky had loved other people, he loved some people for a little while, and some people for a lot longer, but he’d _always_ been in love with Steve. It had _always_ felt different. He had always known that he’d never love anyone else the way he loved Steve, and it was baffling to realize that Steve had felt the same way.

“It was good though,” Steve said quietly, leaning back until Bucky had to move his hands, and settling against his chest. “Peggy deserved someone who could be in love with her that way I was always in love with you,” He snorted softly. “It was the right timing too, cause a month or so later, she met a girl named Angie, and they’re- they’re kinda _perfect_ for each other.” Steve looked over his shoulder with a faint smile. “They’re getting married next summer.”

Bucky felt his mouth tug into a smile, and he wordlessly nestled his mouth and nose into Steve’s hair, kissing the side of his head. There was only one name he hadn’t placed yet. “And the _Howlies?_ Who are they?” He asked, drinking in Steve’s history; a part of his history Bucky had never learned, much less _re_ -learned.

Steve’s body suddenly shook with a sharp chuckle, and he looked back at him again, his eyes gleaming with life. “Would you believe me if I said I was friends with a biker gang?”    

Bucky blinked, a little startled before he smirked faintly, his brows lifted as he settled his chin on Steve’s shoulder. “I dunno, that’s a little bit of a stretch.”

Steve snorted indignantly, and squirmed to pull his phone out of his pocket, flipping briefly through the camera roll before thrusting it back to him. Bucky repositioned to take the phone, his eyebrows lifting higher as he studied the photo. There was no mistaking Steve’s story now. Five men on motorcycles crowded the frame of the photo, some straddling their bikes, others standing in front, or behind. They were a mottled blend of ages, heights, ethnicities, facial hair, and states of un-wash. All of them donned leather jackets, and ratty jeans, but beyond that, the men couldn’t be _more_ different. Bucky couldn’t help a chuckle.

“Alright,” He murmured, passing him the phone. “I believe you. How the _hell’d_ you get involved with a _biker gang?!”_

Steve smirked. “They saw me beating up a guy who’d hit a kid.” Bucky shifted so that Steve could see his face, and arched a brow and Steve’s cheeks flushed crimson. “Yeah- Actually, _I_ was getting beat up, but at least it was for doing the right thing. They stepped in, and after that we talked for a long time. And, turned out they knew Peggy too so...y’know...We stayed in contact.”

Bucky let out the first full laugh in what felt like ages, and snugged his arms tighter around Steve’s waist. “ _Shit Steve!”_ He laughed. “You leave for the city, and in no time flat you’ve got a dame, and are running with a _biker gang!_ You really got it made over there. All I did in the past two years was lose my fucking arm!” His left arm lifted out away from Steve, and in the blink of an eye, Steve suddenly caught it in his hand, and Bucky startled, watching the humor drop from Steve’s face. He grabbed Bucky’s forearm before he could move it further, and then his movements slowed, and he carefully slid his hand up, lacing his slender fingers through the artificial digits.

Bucky blinked, his smile fading, and he shifted the hand the best he could, settling his finger’s between Steve’s. The blond slowly drew his hand close, turning it gently and pressing his lips to the back of Bucky’s knuckles. _“I’m really sorry I wasn’t there Buck…”_ Steve murmured against the synthetic hand, his lashes lowering. “I wouldn't have ever chosen for you to be alone for something like that...losing your memories too...You didn’t even know who you were...I can’t expect you to make decisions like yourself if you don’t even know who that is...”

“Steve-” Bucky murmured, but Steve just pressed his mouth to the back of his hand one more time, his eyes falling closed. Steve wasn’t absolving him of blame, but he could see the thread of logic that ran through the situation, and it helped to ease the lingering hurt, and assure him that the more Bucky remembered, the more like Bucky he’d be.

Steve was quiet for a long while after that, and Bucky let it go, content to just sit with Steve in the chilly autumn afternoon; content to just let Steve sit against him, and hold his hand. It was a comfortable silence now, and Bucky indulged in it, knowing he’d started the process that would _really_ bring Steve back to him. Nothing was hidden anymore, but there was still so much they needed to talk about. Bucky wanted to remember _everything_ about his and Steve’s history together, he wanted Steve to help him do that. _He couldn’t do it without him._

“Hey Buck,” Steve murmured, suddenly shifting away from him and turning to face him. “What’d they take from you?” Bucky blinked, faltering for a second before Steve continued, seeing the confusion on his face. “The guys that made the bet, you said they stole something from you and bet on it. What was it?”

“Oh-” Bucky turned his head, dipping his right hand into his pocket and pulling out his phone. “I’ll show you, it’s- it’s- here.”

Bucky turned the phone around and Steve took it in his hands, bending his head to get a better look. For a second, his brow pulled into that same little knot, before realization flashed across his face, and his head jerk up. “Your _bike?”_ Steve asked, a note of disbelief in his tone, but his expression was already shifting to that same look of righteous anger that Bucky could see in his memory. “They- they stole your _motorcycle?”_

Bucky’s mouth twisted in a bitter grimace, and he shifted his shoulder forward, suddenly feeling the injustice rake at his chest. “Yeah…” He muttered darkly. “It was right after the accident. I was on morphine, and Jeremiah fucking Pierce talked me into signing it over to him...I- I didn’t even know my own _name_ for fucks sake! I remember him _spelling out_ what he wanted me to write!” A huff escaped Bucky’s lips, and he dropped his head with frustration. “But I can’t _prove_ any of that...in all legality it’s his now…”

_“They can’t do that!_ ” Steve snapped, his sunken cheeks turning crimson. He might still harbor some frustration towards Bucky, but the moment he heard anyone else had wronged him, it all evaporated into righteous fury. “I remember you _scraping_ to buy that thing! I remember sitting in your dad’s garage with you for _hours_ while you tweaked and modified it! There’s no other bike in the _world_ like yours and those fucking assholes are just pawning it around over some sick bet?! _BASTARDS!”_

“Steve- _Steve-”_ Bucky cut in abruptly, Steve having dragged himself to his feet somewhere in the midst of his rant, his face scarlet, narrow chest heaving. Steve hated injustice more than anything else. He hated seeing people discriminated against, slighted, or taken advantage of, and the fact that someone would do that to _Bucky- his_ Bucky- was almost more than he could take.

Bucky moved in quickly, grabbing Steve’s scrawny arms and tugging him close, feeling the tiny blond bristling under his hands. _“Steve,”_ Bucky said again, his tone soothing. “Steve...it’s okay...it’s fine...It’s gone now, and- and I don’t care about it...I’ve got _you.”_

“Fucking _liar.”_ Steve bit out, but the venom in his voice wasn’t directed at Bucky. He was calling him out on his bullshit, but it was _STRIKE_ he was angry at. “That motorcycle was all you wanted the better part of your _life._ You put too much time, and money, and effort into it to just _not care_ about it anymore.”

“Stevie-”

“No- Buck, _look.”_ Steve pressed, gripping his forearms in return, his expression determined, and intense. “You’ve _got_ me. I’m _glad_ for that, but I’m not just gonna roll over and play dead while someone else waltzes away with the most important thing you own. We’re gonna get it back.”

Bucky blinked, faltering uncertainly, but Steve’s determination was catching, and Bucky drew in a level breath. “Yeah…” He murmured, something sparking back to life in his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. How? What are we gonna do?”

Steve’s tongue slid out, wetting the soft curve of his mouth before his eyes dropped uncertainly away. “I don’t know...not just yet, but I’m gonna think of something.” Bucky nodded, and Steve’s eyes snapped back up to his, pride burning in the clear blue of his irises. “One things for sure though, we’re not gonna do it _their_ way. I not gonna let anyone _ever_ see me as someone’s plaything. Not even yours. I’m not gonna give those _assholes_ the satisfaction of thinking someone made me their bitch.”

The expression on Bucky’s face abruptly softened, his grip on Steve’s forearms going gentle, and he tenderly reached up to take Steve’s jaw in one hand. _“Good…”_ He murmured fiercely, easing in close and feathering a tiny kiss against Steve’s lips. “I wouldn’t want it that way either... _Every one of ’em_ is wrong about you...and they’re gonna fucking _know it_.” Steve’s mouth turned up into a satisfied smirk against Bucky’s lips, and he let his hands fist into the front of his shirt, tugging Bucky in for another brief, firm kiss.

It didn’t leave an easy way out for them, but Bucky didn’t care. The mere idea of making everyone think he’d used an innocent person for his own gain made Bucky feel sick. And Steve was right. If they were to pretend Bucky had won the bet, Steve would never be seen as anything other than the submissive twink who’d opened up for the first guy that showed interest in him, and _that_ wasn’t a reputation neither Bucky, nor Steve would accept. There was no easy option anymore, but it didn’t matter. Bucky had Steve. For the first time in his complete memory, Bucky had someone he could trust, fully, and completely. A friendship that was tentatively easing into the kind of relationship Bucky could have never hoped for. Steve _loved_ him, even when he’d fucked up so bad he could have lost him forever. He loved him, and he forgave him, and Bucky knew no matter what else happened, he’d always have that.  

Drawing back from the kiss, Bucky slid one arm around Steve’s waist and drew him flush against his chest, one corner of his mouth turning up into a flirtatious smirk. “I’m sure we’re gonna raise hell, but for right now, can I just take you out to dinner?”

And the gorgeous smile on Steve's mouth was more than enough answer for Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm so sososo weak for Hayley Atwell, have a visual aid for the stunning and terrifying Peggy Carter.  
> 
> 
> The next chapter will be up soon! I can't wait to hear all your thoughts!


	5. Chapter 5

_It was eating him alive._  

For _weeks_ now, one thing had been bothering Bucky more than almost _anything_ else. With the exception of the crippling guilt that laced his and Steve's earliest interactions, there was only one thing that Bucky could remember _ever_ having nagged at his thoughts with such intensity.

_Why hadn't he been told?_

According to Steve, both of his parents and his sister Becca had know him, They had all spent _hours_ with Steve and Bucky together, and it was just too coincidental for Bucky to believe that no one had so much as _breathed_ his best friend's name in two years. Bucky's family had made concerted efforts to re-introduce him to all the people in his life. Family friends, aunts and uncles, cousins, everyone they noted as a part of his life. _But not Steve._ No one had mentioned him, and it was clawing at him almost more than Bucky could stand.

Bucky stared down at the phone in his hands, sitting cross legged on his bed as he clicked between Becca's and his partent's contacts. His parents were more likely to know, but Becca was more likely to talk, so after a moment's thought, Bucky tapped Becca's contact, and typed out a text. There was no reason to beat around the bush.

Sent: 7:46 PM

_"Do you know about Steve?"_

Bucky hit send, and dropped back on his pillow with a huff. The pillow compressed under the weight of his head, and Bucky stared up at the ceiling a flutter of nervousness thrashing in the pit of his stomach. A part of him almost didn’t want to know, but the pressure had built. It had mounted, and mounted and it had finally gotten to be too much. Now he was going to find out. Steve had come to the same realization only days ago. He'd looked up at Bucky from where he'd laid -head in his lap- his brow drawing into that adorable frown. _'Why didn't you know me?_ ' For a second, Bucky had considered maybe _Steve_ was the one with memory issues, before the blond had pressed on with an agitated shake of his head. ' _Didn't your family say anything to you about me at all? I mean- I know we'd lost touch, but- in two years..._ " And that had been all it had taken to spur Bucky into action. He _needed_ to know.

The phone buzzed loudly in Bucky's hand, vibrating hard enough to make him jump, and he abruptly tapped through the passcode, his texts flashing up on the screen.

Sent: 7:51 PM

_"Do YOU know about Steve?"_

Bucky gritted his teeth, his flingers flashing across the screen as he replied.

Sent: 7:52 PM

_"Yes. He's here at school with me. I met him. Beccs, why didn't anyone tell me?"_

Sent: 7:54 PM

_"Mom and dad told me not to mention Steve..."_

There was something weighted hanging behind the text, something uncertain- something Bucky couldn't decipher over just the few words, and he sat forward, agitation stirring in his gut. He was liking this less and less. He was beginning to feel anxious, and sick, hating what Becca was implying. His parents had made a conscious decision to keep Steve from him. _Why?_ What could be so bad that they'd lock even the _memory_ of his best friend away?

Sent: 7:59 PM

_"Why? It's okay Becca, you can tell me. Why did mom and dad tell you not to mention Steve?"_

Sent: 8:00 PM

_"I shouldn't_

Sent: 8:00 PM

_"BECCA!"_

Sent: 8:00 PM

_"MOm said the accident was god igiving you a seconnd chance. "_

The text was rushed, words crammed out and misspelled like she'd typed it with her eyes squeezed closed; quickly, before she lost her nerve. Bucky felt something inside him turn to lead. He didn't know exactly what Becca meant by that, but he could already tell the direction it was going. He could already tell it wouldn't be good. Letting out a ragged sigh, Bucky passed a hand over his mouth, blinking rapidly before he braced himself for the rest of the story, and tapped out his response. Becca had broke. She'd tell him everything now.

Sent: 8:03 PM

_"Whadd'you mean Beccs?"_

Bucky typed out, softening the question with her nickname. She was just a kid. She didn't make these calls. The last thing he wanted was his little sister upset. It was a long while before Becca responded again.

Sent 8:12

_"Two weeks before your accident you told mom and dad you were gay...they were really upset, and mom kept crying all the time for days. Dad tried to tell you that you were just confused, but you said you were in love with Steve..."_

Bucky had to stop to take a breath. There was more to the text, a whole paragraph more, but Becca's words snatched the air from his lungs, and stirred an emotion inside him that Bucky couldn’t name. His initial reaction was anger, and then hurt and sadness, but it was all tinged with something else, a kind of lining of self-satisfaction. He'd _known,_ even back then that he was in love with Steve, and he'd been willing to stand up to his parents when he'd been told it wasn't real. Slowly, Bucky steadied the heavy pounding in his chest, and turned his eyes back to Becca's text.

_"After the crash, you were in the hospital for more than a week before you woke up, and when you did, you didn't remember anything...not mom, or dad, or Steve...or me... Mom told me a little while later that it was a blessing. She said God had spared you, and he was giving you a second chance to make the right choice. Mom said if I wanted you to go to heaven I wouldn't tell you about Steve..."_

It was all Bucky could do to not let the phone slip from his numb fingers. He felt shock dulling the anger and hurt in his chest. He felt it hollow out, and whitewash all the throbbing confusion and sadness that churned in his gut, leaving him with one question spinning around and around through the fog of his mind. _How could they do that? How could they do that to me?_ Bucky sunk sickly down onto his pillow again, his face ashen. He had been raised in a Christian home, and believed much of what his parents believed, although certainly not _all._ He had no doubts that he'd been given a second chance, but a second chance to _live,_ not to pretend to be something he wasn't. How could his parents think that, by keeping his memories of Steve from him, they could erase a part of who he was? How could they think that losing his memories would wipe him back to a clean state that they could just tweak however they like; cut out his sexuality, smooth over the marks Steve had left on his soul. _It wasn't fair._ Shakily Bucky made his response.

Sent: 8:20 PM

_"Becca...I'm not gonna go to hell for loving Steve...you know that...right?"_

Sent: 8:21 PM

_"Dad said that wasn't true..."_

Bucky huffed a low sigh. Becca was a good girl, but she was only fourteen. She was young, and impressionable, and she thought what her parents thought, and believed what her parents believed. That, coupled with the fear of dooming her brother to eternal damnation, had kept her mouth very firmly shut. Bucky had no doubts that, as Becca grew, and peaked out from under her parents shadow, she'd develop her own thoughts, and beliefs, but until then, Bucky couldn't be upset at her for adhering to what she'd been taught.

Sent: 8:23 PM

_"Beccs...listen, you're gonna figure out your own perspective on stuff but just, trust me on this okay? Steve's good. He's good, and he's good FOR me. I love him, okay? He makes me happy."_

Bucky didn't know weather to expect a reply or not. Becca was sensitive, and the conversation had probably upset her, but if he knew only one thing, it was that Becca loved him, and wanted him happy. He just hoped that she could understand that Steve did that for him. Bucky glanced down as his phone buzzed, and, drawing in a breath, opened the message.

Sent: 8:26 PM

_"Bucky...I always liked Steve..."_

For the first time in several long minutes, Bucky felt himself smile, and he replied with a little warmth creeping back into his chest.

Sent: 8:27 PM

_"Yeah, I know Beccs. I always liked him too. You don't have to say anything to mom and dad about this if you don't want to."_

Sent: 8:28 PM

_"Okay, thanks Buck. I love you"_

Sent: 8:28

_"Love you too Beccs."_

Almost the second Bucky had tucked the phone away, the agitation was back, scratching at his heart and mind, Becca's story tumbling around in his head like a cracked jar full of rocks. It was too much. It was too much for Bucky to handle on his own and if he didn't tell Steve, he felt like he just might burst. Bucky slid off his bed, his feet striking the floor with a thump, the agitation growing, making him feel hot, and sick. For just a second, Bucky fumbled with his socks, and then yanked on his shoes and stalked out of his room. The stairs of the frat house creaked under his feet, and Bucky softened his footsteps, ghosting down the stairwell as silently as he possibly could, hoping he could slip through the common area without attracting a lot of attention. He'd been doing that more and more lately; ducking the prying eyes of his fraternity brothers. What had once seemed like annoying behavior that really didn't hurt anyone, had now turned more sinister. More threatening. The dumb jocks and foul mouthed assholes suddenly looked more like predators, just looking for an excuse to break bones. Bucky wanted out. He just...wasn't sure _how._

Leaving the fraternity had never really seemed like an option. In Bucky’s memory, unless they graduated out, _no one_ left. And the more Bucky remembered, the more he wondered if he’d ever _wanted_ to be here in the first place. He remembered his first day back on campus. He’d been a blank slate- scratching at phantom limbs, and doubting everything he ever saw. He’d been scared, angry, confused, and alone; and Brock- Brock had come right up and dragged him close under his arm. He’d teased, and joked with Bucky. He’d expressed how bad everyone had missed him...he’d given Bucky something no one else had before. _A place to belong._

Now, it just felt like a sick joke. A prank that had gone _way_ too far. _And Bucky wanted out._

The common area opened up at the bottom of their stairs and Bucky skirted to the outside wall, keeping his head low, and his gate casual. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a few of the frats crowded around the t.v, and one or two in the kitchen to his right. Jeremiah Pierce stood against one wall, drinking an obscenely large can of monster and studying his reflexion in the pristine face of his rolex. A few feet away, Brock lay sprawled out on the couch, Rollin's settled on his broad chest with Brock's hands shamelessly groping his ass. Bucky could care less about Brock's sexuality, but he had no sense of discretion, and Bucky had walked in on him in various public rooms far more times than he cared to remember. Ducking his head, Bucky slipped towards the door.

"Going somewhere Barnes?"

Bucky flinched as almost every eye in the room was suddenly dragged to his retreating figure. From the couch, Brock cracked a crooked grin. "Without telling your mother and I?"

Seething, Bucky flexed his fingers on the doorknob, his eyes flickering blackly to the rest of the fraternity. "Just fuck off." He muttered, already turned the handle, but true to form, Brock wasn't about to let him go without a few good jabs.

"Y'know," Brock purred, grinding his hips upward against Jack's suggestively. "You could stick around and have a little _real_ fun, since you're _clearly_ not getting any from the twink." He growled, and Bucky could see Jack's face color with jealousy. A few of the frat guys whistled jeeringly, others making gagging noises in the backs of their throats. They were all well acquainted with Brock's tendency to flaunt, and there wasn't a one of them who would put him past arranging a threesome in the middle of the common room.

"I think I'll pass." Bucky gritted out, the mention of Steve making his stomach turn. "I've got better things to do."

 _"Doubt it-"_ The mutter came from one of the other frat members. "That frigid bitch won't even _talk_ to anyone, let alone let anyone _do'_ im."

"Course not, virgins are always harder to talk around." Someone else snorted.

"Bet he's nice and tight, though." The comment was instantly met with snickers of approval, and someone reached over to clap the speaker on the back, but Bucky suddenly felt nausea rising in his gut. It made him sick. It made him sick to hear these bastards talking about Steve that way, his best friend- the boy he loved....The fraternity threw around the idea of fucking Steve like a piece of meat, each and every one of them sinking their teeth in it. And once the ball was rolling, it didn't stop.

"Y'think his prick the same size as the rest of him?

"Bet he'll cry like a fucking girl-"

"Y'gonna tell us all about when you get home tonight, Barnes?" Pierce called, grinning maliciously. "You gonna tell us how bad you gotta rip that tiny little hole to get into it?"

Bucky skin burnt hot with sick anger, but his throat was twisted into a hard knot. _He was gonna be sick._ He was gonna hurl right here in the doorway of the frat house and all the while they were laughing- scoffing- all throwing in their thoughts on how his Stevie would feel- how he would sound if they could fuck  him. Unable to listen for a second longer, Bucky suddenly turned on his heels, and pushed out through the door, ignoring the shouts and catcalls that followed him.

He bolted across the darkening campus, ignoring the sharp bite of the autumn night air, ignoring the way it froze the burning sweat that had broken out all over his body. Even with the frat house disappearing behind them, Bucky could still hear the boy's jeering voices, laughing- joking about taking his Steve and leaving him a _mess;_ leaving him broken, confused, and hurt. There wasn't a single one of them who so much as deserved to _speak_ to Steve, much less have the privilege of kissing his perfect lips, or touching his soft, gorgeous body. They had no right to call him the things they did.. _.Twink- Bitch-_ It made Bucky sick.

Stalking blindly into Steve's dorm, he weaved up to his room and pressed against the door, smacking his palm flat on the door. "Stevie-" Bucky broke out raggedly, his original purpose of the visit all but completely forgotten. He just had to see him, just had to hold him and assure himself that his Stevie was okay. That he was _his_ , and he was _smart,_ and he was never going to give anyone of those assholes means, or opportunity to treat him badly. "Steve- It's Bucky- Please-" The door yanked open under Bucky's hand and it had no sooner parted when Bucky abruptly pushed through, his arms coming around Steve's waist as he pressed himself in against his body, his face tucking into his neck.

Steve let out a soft sound, startled, for a moment; stunned as he suddenly found himself with his arms full of a very _hot,_ very _angry_ Bucky.  "Hey-" Steve managed, bare feet shuffling a little on the carpet to compensate of the weight pressing down against his chest. "Hey- Buck...You okay...Bucky?..." The weight against his body increased, suddenly bearing down against him, and Bucky slid forward. Steve suddenly found himself being backed into his room, one slender arm just managing to click the door closed before he was pushed out of reach and dragged down onto his bed. Steve gave a stifled little gasp of surprise as Bucky's muscular body suddenly bore down on top of him and Steve found himself completely pinned to the mattress, his boyfriends face pressed into the crook of his neck.

Steve blinked rapidly, his mouth opening and closing for a second before he managed words. "Bucky?" Steve pressed again, squirming a little to free his one leg from where it was trapped under Bucky's thick thighs, settling both knobby knees on either side of Bucky's body. He was caught between surprise, and concern; simultaneously worried for Bucky, and embarrassed by the warmth that spread through his body as Bucky’s chest pressed against his own; his hips rested right between his thighs. But he quickly shook it away. That wasn’t important. Bucky. _Bucky_ was important. "Hey,” Steve breathed, his warm cheek touching against the side of Bucky’s head.  “Bucky...talk to me...come on...."

Bucky let out a low sigh against his neck, his arms tightening around the slender waist as he craned closer, aching to feel his Stevie's tiny body wrapped, secure, and safe, in his arms. Bucky would be the first one to admit, he was scared. The way STRIKE talked about Steve _genuinely_ scared him, and he just needed to assure himself that he was still alright. "I fucking _hate_ those dicks..." He breathed against his skin, his nose scrunched under Steve's sharp jaw, his expression twisted with anger, hurt, and lingering nausea.

"STRIKE?" Steve asked softly, adjusting to their position now, and as Bucky growled against his neck, Steve's long, bone thin hands moved to his back. He softly ran his hands up and down Bucky's spine, rubbing gently at his muscles through the back of his shirt. His skin was freezing from the biting wind, but his core radiated heat, and anger. Steve turned his face to the side, nuzzling softly into Bucky's hair, the side of his bare foot rubbing along Bucky's calf. "Bucky?" Steve pressed, wanting the older boy to articulate- to tell him what was really going on. "Is it STRIKE?"

Bucky squeezed his eyes tighter closed, but the pounding in his head, and chest was starting to settle. He felt the anger burning out of his heart, leaving him only with frustration, and something resembling grief. "Yeah..." Bucky muttered, his lips brushing Steve's neck as he spoke. The hands stroking his spine helped to unwind the knots in his gut, and he could feel Steve's warm, comforting breath whispering through his hair. "Yeah, it's STRIKE...I fucking _hate_ the way they talk about you." Bucky rasped, his throat tightening. "Like a fucking _piece of meat_ \- I- I-" He could feel his forehead pressing harder into Steve's soft flesh, and the younger boy shifted, repositioning so he could crane his neck to see the side of Bucky's face.

"Hey..." Steve breathed. "Forget those asshole alright? They're only mouthin' off because they're frustrated....They're talkin’ themselves blue in the face cause thinkin about me is as close as they're ever gonna get and they _know_ it." Bucky met this with an unsatisfied growl, and Steve's left hand came up to card through the hair at the base of his neck. "Y'know I had _four_ of those bastards try and chat me up today?" Steve pressed giving Bucky's hair a series of gentle tugs until he lifted his eyes to him. "I sent every one of them packing...They're getting desperate, and it's makin'em crass is all." Steve reached up, his chin tipping to the side as he took Bucky’s jaw in one, cupped palm. _“Don’t worry about them…”_ He pressed softly, Bucky huffing as his chin rested down against Steve’s collar. “I aint gonna give them a chance to treat me bad…”

Bucky let his eyes fall closed, his chest cooling, his anger burning off as Steve’s left hand scratched through the hair at the base of his neck, his right holding softly along his jaw. He let Steve’s reassurance sooth the nagging worry in his gut, let his warm, deep voice wash over the echo of STRIKE’s words in his mind. Bucky shuffled a little bit, taking a little bit of his weight on his right elbow so that not all of his mass was pressing down on Steve’s frail chest, and Steve smiled appreciatively, tipping his head to nip lightly at Bucky’s chin.

“-’sides…” Steve murmured, blinking sleepily at Bucky. “Why the hell’d you think I’d want a bunch’a sorry looking bastards like them when I’ve got someone like _you_.”

For the first time since leaving the frat house, Bucky felt a little warmth spark back into his heart, and he opened his eyes with a lazy, teasing smirk. “You sayin’ you think I’m pretty Rogers?” Bucky drawled feeling more like his old self then he’d ever remembered, and Steve scoffed underneath him, grabbing Bucky’s face and pushing it back away from his.

“Nah-” Steve grinned, “Y’got a mug on you Buck, I’m just saying they’re uglier.”

Bucky squirmed up higher, Steve’s shirt rucking up a little over his stomach as Bucky shifted face to face with him, beaming coyly. “Ah go on Steve, admit it. You’re crazy about me,” Bucky purred, his lips easing closer, and Steve turned his head away with a snicker, his hand moving down to tug his shirt back over his stomach.

“Lay off jerk-” He managed, his cheeks bright pink despite his words, and Bucky nuzzled into the side of Steve’s neck, coaxing a hoarse little bark of laughter. Steve bucked underneath him, his crooked spine arching, and he tried to squirm free, but Bucky kept him pinned, pecking light kisses all over his neck as Steve tried to stifle fits of laughter. “Buck-” He gasped hoarsely, his heel smacking against the back of Bucky’s calf. "Buck- Bucky! _Bucky stop!_ Stop it!” He laughed, and Bucky grinned, nuzzling up under his jaw.

 _“Say it-”_ Bucky pressed, catching his chin in a light nibble before Steve whipped his head the opposite directions, opening up a beautiful span of his pale white throat for Bucky to kiss.

 _“Buck!”_ Steve gasped, shaking with laughter now, the bed frame thumping against the wall as Bucky kept him pinned, his weight shifting to compensate for every time Steve squirmed or arched. _“Alright!”_ Steve broke out, one hand plastering across Bucky face, pushing his head back with a laugh. “Alright, alright, yer a fucking _doll._ You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on- shame the moon, and shit like that, now will y’ _knock it off?_ Everyone on the entire floor's gonna be thinkin’ you’re fucking me inside out in here!”

A laugh broke from Bucky’s lips, and he pressed one last kiss against the side of Steve’s neck before rolling with weight off of him with a heavy sigh. “I’ll take it,” Bucky said graciously, but despite his easy, teasing grin, Steve’s comment stuck in his mind, and tugged heat, and curiosity in the pit of his stomach. He fell silent for a long moment, letting Steve catch his breath, letting his own mind mull over what he wanted to say. He certainly didn’t want to push Steve too fast, but he _was_ curious. He wanted to how what Steve thought- how he felt about sex, or even the _possibility_ of sex. It could be a little awkward, but talking about directly was the mature thing to do wasn’t it?  Bucky wanted to know directly from Steve’s own mouth, that way he didn’t start initiating something Steve might be uncomfortable with. That way, he already _knew_ what Steve wanted, or _didn’t_ want. He would know if Steve was even comfortable _considering_ sex with Bucky.  

“Hey Stevie?” Bucky asked, his cheeks already warm. Fortunately, the tousling, and squirming had pinked Steve’s cheeks too, so it would be easy to dismiss, or write off as an effect of their playing. Bucky shifted back onto his side, his chest against Steve’s ribs as he let a heavy arms rest over his body, his head inclined towards his. “What you said earlier, about not wanting them if you had someone like me…” Bucky faltered, and he could feel the heat spreading to his ears. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him; expectant, curious. “Well, I- I guess what I wanted to ask you-” Bucky stammered. “If you were comfortable with it- I mean- _obviously_ you’re not gonna be doing anything with them but...maybe- if you wanted-”

Steve’s mouth broke out into a smile and a wheezing laugh gurgled up from his fragile ribcage. “Bucky you fucking _suck_ at being subtle. Just tell me okay?”

Bucky sucked in a breath, feeling ridiculous for just saying it outright, but if his interactions with Steve had proven anything, it was that he was right. Bucky sucked at being subtle. Confessions of love and guilt shattered everywhere like shrapnel bombs as a result of trying to be subtle. This held nowhere near the gravity as the others, but Bucky still considered it a very necessary conversation. “I just- wanted to talk about what you wanted to do...w- with _me._ Or _if_ you wanted to do anything with me, I wanted to ask you…”

Steve blinked a little taken aback, his smile faltering as the color in his cheeks deepened. He glanced down, and then back up to Bucky and then away again, one corner of his mouth lifting in an awkward half-smile “Are you- is this about _sex,_ Buck? Cause if you’re gettin’ all bothered-”

“No-” Bucky blurted quickly, subconsciously wondering if he should sit back- if this was _really_ the conversation to be having while he was lying, mostly on top of Steve, on his bed. “No, I’m not- I just wanted to _talk_ to you about it...that’s _all,_ I promise.” Bucky cracked a little smile, gently scratching at Steve’s ribs just to tease him. “I’m not gonna start anything, I swear…”

“Mhhh…” Steve hummed, his awkward little smile relaxing, and he dropped his head back, his eyes fluttering closed. _“Good,_ cause you’ve still got a lot of making up to do yet before I’m gonna let you in my pants, James Buchanan.”

Bucky smiled faintly at the use of his middle name, taking Steve’s closed eyes as a good sign. He’d visibly relaxed. He was still comfortable with him. If nothing else, it was a start. “Yeah,” Bucky smiled, pressing a light kiss to his collar bone. “I know...but seriously...what do you think about that? I wanna know…:

Steve blinked his eyes open, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling for a long moment, really consider Bucky’s question now. “Well…” He started, his tone in all seriousness. “I’ve never actually _had_ sex before, so I don’t think it’s something I wanna jump right in to...certainly not with some asshole stranger, and I don’t think even _right away_ with _you.”_

Bucky lifted his head, pure curiosity flickering across his expression. “Right away?” He ask evenly, and Steve shifted, squirming down a little until his face was level with Bucky’s. He turned his head to look at his expression soft, and warm, and the look in his clear blue eyes could all but make Bucky melt.

“Yeah-” He said thoughtfully, before his gaze dropped away again. “I’d be the biggest liar on the east coast if I said I hadn’t though’a you that way... _I have_ …” Steve admitted, and Bucky felt his stomach going warm, his thoughts turning fuzzy. “I used to think about you that way _a lot_ when we were teenagers, and I think…” Steve paused, his forehead easing almost against Bucky, though he still kept his eyes firmly on the mattress. “I think that’s something I want with you Buck...but... _not right now,_ okay?”

Bucky’s mouth turned up into a warm, gentle smile, and he reached out, carefully cradling Steve’s chin in his right palm and lifted his face to his. “Not right now is _fine…”_ Bucky murmured, and Steve smiled, the air warm, and intimate between their lips. “You tell me when you’re ready okay?” He breathed, bringing his mouth closer. “Whenever that this... _I don’t care.._.Just want you happy…Although for the record…” Bucky added, the corners of his plush, red mouth turning up in a little smirk as his hooded eyes dropped down to Steve’s lips. He eased in closer, voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “I remember thinkin’ about you that way too…”

Steve’s eyes widened just a hair, and Bucky could see color rushing to his cheeks, reddening the skin behind his light dusting of freckles, and pinking his face all the way up to his ears.   _“Seriously?”_ He asked, a subtle prickle of indigence in his tone; and underlying note of ‘ _you’d better not be lying to me, Barnes._ ’ But Bucky’s smile was warm, and a hint embarrassed, the tease slipping from his voice.

“Yeah, Seriously!” Bucky said with an awkward little laugh, his eyes flicking between his mouth and his eyes. “I...I think I remember us both sleeping in my bed-” He started, and Steve gave a tiny nod, always feeling a secret thrill whenever Bucky remembered something about them. And Bucky was remembering more and more. “I would uh...I would see you laying right there next to me- sometimes _against_ me, and...I’d imagine what it’d be like to- to touch you…” His words where a breath now, a whisper, and Steve eased closer, their lips just brushing as Bucky spoke. “I thought about kiss you- really _kissing_ you- not just a peck on the lips, and I just... _god_ \- I wondered what it’d feel like to run my hands over your body-”

“But then I’d get feeling guilty.” Bucky said abruptly, his tone turning on a dime. “I’d think- it wasn’t right for me to think about you like that, ‘cause there was no way you’d ever want me, so, I shouldn’t...I guess I felt like, just imagining you like that was taking advantage of you, cause you were always so comfortable sleeping right next to me, and here I was imagining you naked-” Bucky gave a tight little scoff, looking simultaneously embarrassed, and still oddly guilty, like he’d never quite shaken the feeling. But _god_ he remembered- Bucky remembered laying, pressed up against Steve, on his bed and feeling his tiny chest rattle in and out. He remembered squeezing his thighs together under the blankets and trying desperately not to touch himself, because Steve’s bare back against his chest- his warm, pale skin- his quiet little sighs in his sleep- were almost too much for Bucky. He wanted to touch him so bad, but knew with everything inside him that he would _never_ forgive himself if he laid a finger on Steve while he was sleeping. Even entertaining the thought of kissing down over his stomach and hips felt like he’d broken some sacred, unspoken rule. _Don’t think of your best friend naked. Don’t think of the soft little sighs he’d make for you…_

Bucky’s face was burning. Steve hadn’t said anything yet, but even knowing Steve had already thought that way about him, the old, misplaced guilt still yanked at his stomach. He could feel those clear, bright blue eyes boring into him. He could feel how the warmth on his lips had suddenly stopped as Steve caught his breath. And suddenly, Bucky felt Steve’s hand slid up along his jaw, tipping his face up as they lay, forehead to forehead on Steve’s bed, their legs entangled below the knees. “Buck…” Steve started with a faint smile, his lashes brushing the flushed apples of his cheeks. “You don’t have’ta feel bad about that, but I understand why you would…I thought the same thing.”

Bucky could have almost snorted. _“You_ felt guilty about wanting _me?”_ he asked incredulously, his mouth spreading slightly, and Steve tipped his chin down, his nose wrinkling slightly.

“I dunno. It’s not like I felt guilty for liking you ‘cause you're a _guy-_ I felt guilty ‘cause you were _my best friend._ ”

“And we both had our heads up our ass’s and didn’t think we could like each other.” Bucky finished, and Steve nodded with a snort. But Bucky and Steve hadn’t been the only obstacle in their own path. There had been other things in play that had taken them apart. Sarah Roger’s death, Steve’s being taken into the foster care system...Bucky’s parents...Bucky pinched his lips together, his eyes suddenly dropping away as he remembered the original purpose of his visit. After being forced to listen to the crass, lewd comments the fraternity had been making about Steve, Bucky had forgotten all about his parents. He’d been too furious- to upset to even remember, but now that the rage had passed, Bucky felt the memory of what his parents had done beginning to twist in his stomach, curdling sickly like spoiled milk. It wasn’t so intense and fiery an emotion as the fury of earlier, but it seeped into every vein in his body, making him feel wrong all over; hanging around his body like a bad smell.

Steve caught on before Bucky could even speak. The hand on his jaw twitched, sliding gently further up before rubbing down again, soothing over his skin. “Bucky?” Steve murmured, watching with concern as the life and color in his cheeks melted into a ghostly pallor, his bright eyes going suddenly ill, and glassy.

Bucky blinked sluggishly, looking up at Steve. He wasn’t angry at his parents, _not really_ \- although he was sure that would come. He was _heartsick._ “I uh...I texted Bacca earlier…” Bucky murmured, his voice sounding weirdly hollow in his own ears. The echo was back, the skipping record. _How could they do that to us?_ “I asked her about, _y’know..._ why I didn’t know who you were...why, in two years, _nobody_ mentioned my best friend…” The breath on his lips stilled again, Steve’s focus narrowing to him, and only him as he waited in breathless silence.

“Becca said that a few weeks before the accident, I came out to mom and dad...told them I was in love with you…She said they were upset, and tried to tell me it wasn’t real, but that...I knew it was...I knew the way I felt about you was real...She said that after the accident, when they found out about the extent of the head trauma and what it had done to my memories...mom told her I’d been given a second chance to make the right choice, and if Becca wanted her big brother to go to heaven she wouldn’t say anything about you…”

Bucky could see the tension in Steve’s expression, and suddenly, the heartache cracked into a different kind of pain, and Bucky felt his throat grow suddenly tight. “ _They got rid of you_ Steve…” Bucky managed with a choke. “I musta had pictures of us, and stuff from places we’d gone together, and gifts you’d gotten me, but they just _got rid of you,_ like they could cut and paste my life back together however they wanted it! They-” Suddenly, Bucky’s voice broke, and Steve pressed forward, pulling Bucky in against him and drawing him close

 _“Hey…”_ Steve breathed, Bucky’s hands coming up around behind him, gripping into his frail shoulders, his nose scrunching into the crook of Steve’s neck. “Hey- Hey, Bucky...Bucky, hey...It’s alright…” He murmured, thin, artistic fingers rubbing at his back. “It’s okay…” Steve didn’t feel the impact. Later, it would settle, like a gnaw in his bones. It would scratch at his insides, and puncture ragged claw marks into his heart. But for right now, all Steve could think about was Bucky. He cradled the other boy closer, his legs tangling tighter with his as he pressed their bodies together, feeling the heavy slam of Bucky’s heart beat against his. He could feel the quiver in his muscles, the tension as Bucky was suddenly swallowed by the enormity of the injustice.

Bucky pressed his face tighter into Steve’s neck, his jaw aching from clenching his teeth so hard, his knuckles white from their grip in Steve’s shirt. He kept dragging in lungfuls of Steve’s warm, fresh scent, breathing him in and trying to remember that he had him now. He had his best friend- the boy he’d loved his whole life. He had him back, but what his parents had done raked at him, unbalancing every ounce of trust he’d ever placed in them. Bucky knew he’d alway love his parents- after the hurt, and anger settled he would be able to remember that he still loved them, but after this, Bucky couldn’t see how he could ever really _trust_ them.

“Did they ever give you shit about being gay, Steve?” Bucky murmured against the side of Steve’s throat, nuzzling closer, his breathing beginning to even out, the tightness easing in his throat.

Steve turned his face in, his breath ghosting over Bucky’s ear as he considered the question. Everyone had always know about Steve’s sexuality. He was proud of who he was, and no one, not even Bucky’s conservative parents where going to change that. But they had known just like everyone else, and Steve still remember the quiet, backhanded remarks, and telling glances whenever he walked through the door. “They were…. _subtle_  about it…” He murmured, a little knot forming between his brows as he thought back. “I think they thought they were trying to “ _help me”_ or something like that but...it was a lot of passive comments about decisions, and lifestyles...I kinda think they were hoping to turn me straight or something…Like a charity case...like, maybe 'cause I was their son’s best friend, I was worth trying to convert...”

Bucky snorted humorlessly, burrowing closer in against him as his blood slowly unfroze, and he began tracing the length of Steve’s spine, his mouth still pressed into a tight line. Steve’s reaction was quieter than what he would have thought. On any given day, Steve would face injustice with a jutted jaw, and raised fists. He fought- and fought dirty if he had to- to undo a wrong that had been done to someone, but he didn’t react to Bucky’s words with a flush of righteous anger, or with gritted teeth, and reddened cheeks. He took Bucky’s words with tight lips, and gentle hands; with murmured words against Bucky’s hair, and quiet assurance of his love and support. And Bucky was grateful. He was angry enough for the both of them.

“Buck…” Steve breathed, and in response, Bucky’s arms tightened around his narrow ribcage. Steve’s lips brushed over Bucky’s ear, and he pressed a tender kiss into his hair, rubbing his back as he continued. “I...can’t begin to imagine how your parents could do something like that...why they thought they could use your accident to try and cut out a part of who you were…” His breath escaped him in a hot huff, and Steve comforted himself in the feeling of Bucky’s arms around him. “But it didn’t work. Okay? It didn’t work...I’m here now...you remember me, and...and we’re together...You’ve got me, Buck...You’ve got me back now…”

Slowly, Bucky eased back a tiny bit, finally feeling the tension ease enough that he could unbury himself from Steve’s neck without feeling like his chest cavity would shatter. As he drew back, Steve loosened his hold, and let him settle with his forehead against his, only a breath of space between their lips. Bucky forced a weak smile. “I know…” He murmured huskily. “I’m glad...but it’s still not right.”

 _“No.”_ Steve broke out quickly. “No, It’s wrong! And it’s fucked up, and you’ve got every right to be angry-”

“ _But I’ve still got you.”_ Bucky finished, and Steve stopped mid sentence, his mouth turned up into a little smile.

“Yeah. You’ve _got_ me and I’m _keeping_ you.” Steve said softly. “I’ve waited too long to be able to have this with you, Buck...I’m not gonna let you go. Fuck whatever your parents, your frat, or anyone else thinks.” Bucky let out an audible groan at the mention on his fraternity, and some of the old irritation started to scratch at his insides, but he tucked it away. Steve was right. Fuck what they thought. He didn’t care. Steve shifted a little closer, and Bucky saw the other boy’s mouth turn up into a little smile, that glint sparking behind his eyes that soothed the ragged scratching in his chest. Steve may be the kind to never back down from an injustice, but he was also the kind who knew how to comfort when the battle couldn’t be fought. Steve couldn’t undo what Bucky’s parents had done, and as much as he wanted to, Steve knew it wasn’t the moment to pay back STRIKE either. But he could take care of Bucky.

“Got somethin’ for you.” Steve breathed against Bucky’s lips, pecking him once against the lips, before quickly rolling away, leaving Bucky watching after him with a soft, bemused smile. He slipped out the bed, padding across the floor in his bare feet before stooping over his backpack. Fishing something out of one pocket, Steve moved back over to sit on the bed, Bucky sitting up to meet him. “Here…” Steve murmured, holding out a plastic slip. “It’s stupid that you gotta knock every time to get into my room, I want you to have this.”

Bucky took the key card, blinking in surprise, the little rectangle sitting lightly in the palm of his hand. “Isn’t this like- against policy?” Bucky asked, glancing up, one eyebrow quirking, as the corners of his mouth lifted into a smirk. Steve’s cheeks turned a little pink, the kind of pink Bucky remembered- the kind of pink that meant Steve had done something he _probably_ shouldn’t have but was going to be mulish about admitting it anyways.

 _“Technically-”_ He started, and Bucky snorted aloud, waving one hand.

“Alright- alright, I don’t wanna know, so long as you didn’t offer anyone any sexual favors.” The pink in Steve’s cheeks deepened, and he shoved Bucky, Bucky going back easily and flopping down on Steve’s bed with a laugh.

“Shuddup jerk.” He growled, straddling him easily and kissing him like it was a challenge. Bucky kissed back like it was a blessing. Steve’s lips were firm against his, his face blood hot with that adorable frustration. Bucky’s mouth moved soft, and tender, his fingers coming up to caress those hot cheeks. And gradually, Steve’s kiss softened, and he smiled into it, shifting down to comfortably lay on Bucky’s chest, the older boy’s head turned just slightly to kiss Steve more comfortably. Steve’s lips parted softly from his, his eyes still closed. “There’s always two key cards-” He murmured, his words muffled as Bucky kissed him again, but he kept trying to mumble against his lips. “But I- _mh-_ don’t have a roommate, so the desk was gonna keep it, but-”

“Stevie,” Bucky laughed, grabbing Steve’s warm face in both hands. “Shuddup, alright?” He smiled, kissing him quickly. “I’m _glad_ to have it.”

Steve looked at him for just a moment longer, and then seemed to give in, returning the quick kiss with tender, soft lips. “Good.” He murmured, his lashes brushing Bucky’s cheeks. “I fully expect you to drop in on me then.” Bucky hummed and nodded, nuzzling in gently and settling his arms around his waist. “Also,” Steve added, their position having eased to their sides, nuzzled into each other's necks just as before. “I’m not letting you go back to that fucking _awful_ frat house tonight. You’re gonna stay here with me.”

Bucky grinned dumbly into the side of Steve’s neck, kissing just below his ear as one hand found Steve’s blanket, dragging it over the two of them with an easy tug. “No complaints from me…” He murmured, “I wasn’t planning on heading back anyways...got plans for this cute blond I met.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve snickered, trying to pull back to look him in the eye, but Bucky kept him tugged nice and snug against his chest.

 _“Yeah…”_ He said, his voice dropping off to a breath, his hand growing soft as he trailed them over the dips and rises of Steve’s spine. “I was plannin’ on getting to know him a bit...then snuggling up to’em, getting him to ask me to stay over... _and then…_ ”

Steve blinked, his stomach going warm with anticipation, his hands stilling on Bucky’s back. _“Then?”_ He asked, almost breathless, embarrassed by how easily Bucky’s low, smooth voice turned him on, embarrassed that he was already considering recanting his earlier bottom line that he wasn’t ready for sex. Bucky’s lips slid, warm, and wet, from his ear, across his jaw, and chin, his mouth turned up into a smirk as he hovered close, heavily lidded eyes lowered, tongue resting just behind his teeth.

 _“Then…”_ He whispered, and all the sultry tease melted away, the steel blue beneath his lashes saturated with so much pure adoration, Steve was surprised he didn’t burst. “Then I’m gonna make up for every kiss I’ve _ever_ missed with you…” Bucky murmured, and Steve’s expression softened into a warm, gentle smile, Bucky easing in to feather the lightest of kisses against his lips. “Every single one…” Each word was punctuated by a brush of his mouth against Steve, and Bucky made good on his word. Bucky made up for every time he’d thought about kissing Steve and crushed the thought out. He made up for every ‘ _I shouldn’t_ ’ for every ‘ _he’s my best friend_.’ He made up for every ‘ _Steve could never want me._ ’ And Bucky kissed Steve- gently- lovingly- until his frail little body had gone soft underneath him, and Steve drifted off under Bucky tender affection.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm so sorry that this chapter is so late, but freshman year is really keeping me running. I'm absolutely going to keep updating this story, but just have a little patience with me as it might be a little slower. Also, comments and encouragement go such a long way in keeping me focused, and motivated. Let me know what you all think. <3


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky was spending less and less time at the frat house. Rather than sitting in the common room, or even in his own bedroom to do homework, Bucky found himself at the library, or in public study spaces. Rather than falling asleep at night to the sounds of someone yelling over a football game, or to the sound of Brock shouting teasing jeers at someone a floor below, Bucky fell asleep to the sound of Steve’s gentle breathing. More nights than not anymore, Bucky slept over in Steve’s dorm room. The college still had policies that limited the nights a ‘guest’ could sleep over, but Bucky tried to stretch that privilege as much as he possibly could. Sometimes, that meant slipping into an alcove, or behind a loung couch until the hall monitor passed before letting himself into Steve’s room, even if it meant repeating the same heist a few hours later before students started moving about. It was all worth it though. It was worth it to fall asleep with Steve’s warm breath on his neck, and his slender arms around his waist. It was worth it to reclaim that time in his past when they would sleep together with nothing more to worry about than wishing they could touch the other. It was worth it. _Steve was worth it._

-.-

Bucky was getting lightheaded, and it was the best feeling in the entire fucking world.

Steve lay with his back against the mattress and Bucky against his chest, his artistic hands framing his jaw as he kissed him. Bucky could feel his lashes against his cheeks and his breath on his upper lip. He could feel the tentative, wet touch of his tongue against his whenever his open lips would frame his. It was _perfect._ It was fucking _perfect_ and Bucky could never get tired of it; not when Steve made such sweet little noises whenever his tongue would play along his teeth, not when Steve would let Bucky take his lower lip between his own and suck- and nibble- and tug at it until he stifled a squeak of pleasure. It was fucking perfect-

Except Bucky was getting a little _too_ aroused to handle.

Abruptly, the older boy drew back with a low gasp, sliding quickly off Steve’s bed and running his hand over his wet lips, cheeks scarlet. Steve blinked, breathless from the kiss, and startled from the abrupt cut of contact. He blinked sluggishly, pushing himself up onto his elbows, looking daze; his eyes landing on Bucky’s figure.

“Buck?” Steve breathed, caught between concern, and mild amusement, watching the way Bucky squirmed, and clenched his thighs.

“Sorry,” Bucky murmured, desperately needing to either palm himself through his jeans or splash his face with cold water, and frankly, he didn’t really want either. He wanted _Steve,_ but Steve wasn’t an option, so he had to distance himself, and take his next best option. He blinked, trying to breath, and focus on anything other than the hardness between his thighs before he half turned back to him, offering him a lopsided smirk. “Sorry, just- just a little warm…”

Steve dropped his eyes with a faint smile, his cheeks heating just slightly. “I too much for you, Barnes?” He asked in that sweet, smooth Brooklyn accent, his gorgeous blue eyes lifting back to his, and Bucky couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. He turned, finally composed enough that he didn’t feel the immediate, _urgent_ need to fuck Steve within an inch of his life, and strolled back to the bed.

“Yer always too much for me, Sugar.” He smirked, lightly tugging Steve in by the crooked collar of his shirt and kissing him, but just lightly this time; just a sweet, teasing peck before he drew back once more. But Steve caught the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him close again, setting his knees on either side of his thighs and purposefully taking the front of Bucky’s shirt. He was looking at him now in that serious, assertive manner that drove Bucky crazy, the look that said Bucky was going to do _exactly_ as his said. And _god_ would he- Bucky would do anything Steve could ask of him, and he’d _love_ it, he’d love every second of it, cause it was _Steve._ And what Steve wanted, Steve got, whether he knew it or not.

“Why’re you running from me?” He asked, his tone serious, but his eyes still alive with light, and mischief, and Bucky decided honesty was his best bet.

Leaning down just a bit, Bucky closed his hands over Steve’s, his nose brushing his, air warm against his lips as he spoke. “Cause, you’re so fucking pretty I wanna touch you all over and I know I’m not allowed.” He said easily, ignoring the way his cheeks warmed and giving Steve’s bone thin hands a little squeeze. “Yer driving me crazy, Rogers.”

Steve flushed with something caught between embarrassment, and a smug pride that he could do that to Bucky. A lifetime of having the male beauty ideal crammed down his throat had done major damage to Steve’s self image. He was a little uncertain, always imagining that he should be taller, or more muscular, or at least fleshed out rather than his skin drawn tight around his bones. He’d always imagined that his body could never do to Bucky what Bucky’s gorgeous physique did to him, so it came as a surprise, and a source of pride that he could turn Bucky on so thoroughly he had to back off. “No kidding?” Steve asked, in a low tone, his face flushed, and Bucky eased down beside him with a snort.

“No kidding.” He echoed, nudging Steve’s shoulder with an easy smile. “If I’d _ever_ thought you could’a wanted me I would have been all over you _years_ ago! As it is though, it’s all in your court, so rubbing off against you while we’re making out is kind of not an option.”

Steve snickered faintly, still a little pink, his brain looping on what that might feel like- feeling Bucky’s hips rocking against his- his cock hard in the front of his pants. He tried to imagine how it would feel when Bucky would let out those low, breathless sounds into his mouth, how satisfying it would be to know he could make Bucky come just by rutting against him. And suddenly Steve was wildly curious, and so terribly nervous he couldn’t sit still. He’d touched himself before. He’d brought himself off countless times thinking about Bucky, but it was different with someone else. No one had ever seen that side of him before, and suddenly, Steve was both anxious, and afraid to show it.

“Uh- Buck…” He started, his voice coming out a little funny, Bucky’s gaze turned to him; warm, and open. Steve twisted at his fingers, his eyes in his lap, face burning. “If you want- I- I kinda thought we could...maybe try somethin’...”

Bucky blinked, taken aback but trying not to read into Steve words. He could mean something else entirely, so Bucky temporarily put a lid on the flare of hope and shifted a little closer. “Whadd’ya mean?” He asked easily, his hand sliding to Steve’s knee, rubbing comfortingly over his jeans, his head inclined towards him.

Steve shuffled where he sat, curbing the desire to turn away from Bucky completely so that he didn’t have to see his reaction when he asked. He didn’t know why he was so flustered. Bucky had expressed that this was something he wanted, so why was Steve so nervous about approaching it? Maybe he was afraid Bucky would change his mind. Kissing was one thing, but Steve had always see his body as flawed, and underwhelming. What if Bucky thought better of it once they actually undressed? He tried to convince himself that he shouldn’t worry, but Steve couldn’t ever completely shake the nagg that Bucky wouldn’t want him the further along they got.

“Uhm…” Steve faltered, pink in the cheeks. “I just thought...remember what I said about wanting sex with you, but, not right away?”

Bucky nodded openly, giving Steve’s knee another comforting squeeze, and the younger boy drew in a breath. “Well...that’s still true...but I was wondering if we could- maybe...start small...try something, and maybe...work up to it...I guess..but only if you want-” Steve hurried to add, his eyes flashing up to Bucky for the first time, and Bucky’s eyes abruptly brightened.

“No, No Steve, _of course_ I want to!” He pressed, shifting to that they were knee to knee, and he tipped his head, peering up into Steve’s face, a little, encouraging smile touching his lips. “Of course.” He said again, lifting Steve’s chin just a hair, and pecking softly against his lips. “What do you want to do? What are you comfortable with?”

Steve drew a little confidence from the warmth in Bucky’s gaze, and he lifted his head, still a little flushed, but the nervousness in his gut had eased. “I’m not sure,” He admitted sheepishly. He didn’t have to tell Bucky the extent of his inexperience, he already knew. But it didn’t make deciding what he wanted any easier. “Well,” Steve started again, deciding maybe it was better to lay out what he definitely _didn’t_ want, and figure it out from there. “I really don’t think i’m ready for sex just yet, and...I’m not sure how I feel about having your dick in my mouth.”

Bucky abruptly snorted, ducking his head with a sharp laugh, and Steve glanced over quickly. Bucky clapped a hand over his mouth and nose, waving his other dismissively. “Sorry- sorry,” He snickered, blinking quickly before looking back over to him. “That’s fine Stevie, it just sounded kind of funny like that, that’s all.” Steve ducked his head away suddenly a little uncertain again, wondering if maybe he shouldn’t have said anything- wondering if maybe he should be more open. But Bucky’s hand squeezed gently on his knee and he lifted his gaze back up to his boyfriend’s face.

“How bout this…” Bucky said gently, shifting slowly to carefully straddling Steve’s thighs, kneeling on the edge of the mattress over him, his hands on Steve’s bony shoulders. “I’m just gonna kiss you for a while, then start touchin’ you a bit. You tell me what you like, or what you want me to stop, and we’ll figure it out from there.”

Steve nodded, already warm from the weight of Bucky over his lap, and a sudden thrill ran up his spine as Bucky slowly eased him backwards. His back hit the mattress with a muted _thump_ , and Bucky slid forward, claiming Steve’s mouth in a smooth kiss, his right hand resting in the middle of his chest. His left slid up, the prosthetic fingers sending shivers up Steve’s spine as they trailed along his ribs. Bucky’s mouth was hot, and wet against his own, his hands still for a few moments before they began to brush over his chest and stomach. His palms, and fingers dragged slowly over Steve’s body, feeling his body through his shirt tracing over the prominent outline of his bones. Steve let out a soft sigh, his hands finding Bucky’s thighs, feeling the powerful cords of muscle under smooth, pale skin.

He fucking _loved_ Bucky’s thighs. He loved feeling them framing his stomach or hips. He loved how solid, and firm they were, and a part of him was curious as to how it would feel to bury his face between them. He gripped his boney fingers into the muscle, and Bucky breathed a soft sound into Steve’s mouth, his hips rocking down against his.

Steve felt Bucky’s hips rolling against his own, and pleasure shocked up his spine. He let out a little gasp, Bucky’s mouth turning into a smile against his lips. “Good?” He whispered in a low voice, slowly shifting, rubbing back and forth across the hardening bulge in Steve’s jeans. His warm, wet tongue darted along Steve’s lower lip, and Bucky teased at the soft, pink flesh, both hands moving to stroke along his ribs. “Y’like that Steve?” He whispered, rocking back a little deeper. “Feels good?”

Steve nodded, his fingers tightening into Bucky’s thighs and he made a breathless noise against Bucky’s lips. “Yeah-” He whispered, his jeans suddenly feeling far too constricting. He could feel the scrape of Bucky’s own jeans against his body, but he couldn’t really feel _Bucky,_ and it was driving him insane. “More?” Steve breathed haltingly, and Bucky paused for just a moment, the kiss softening, as he moved to stroke Steve’s hair away from his eyes.

“Y’want more, Steve?” He murmured, looking him dead in the eye and Steve nodded again, feeling a flush of warmth, and safety spreading out through his chest. Taking the little nod, Bucky’s eyes suddenly grew sultry, and flirtatious again, and he wet his lips with a long sweep of his tongue before shifting back, and unbuttoning his jeans, sliding them off over his powerful thighs. “It’ll feel better this way…” He breathed, stooping to kiss the shirt over Steve’s stomach before his hands found their way deftly to the front of Steve’s pants.

Steve felt heat flush his cheeks and he let his head roll back against the pillow, a shiver of anticipation and nervousness running through his body. Steve didn’t know how he was going to feel with his body on display for Bucky to see- he wasn’t even sure if he really _wanted_ that- but Steve comforted himself in the knowledge that he could change his mind that any time, and Bucky wouldn’t think worse of him for it. If he felt too uncomfortable, or too exposed, Steve could always ask Bucky to stop, but at the moment, all Steve felt was heat burning in his stomach, and arousal throbbing between this thighs. He felt the button of his jeans slip free, the friction as the zipper dragged down over the hard outline of his cock. Steve stifled a low moan, his hips jerking forward at the sensation, and Bucky kissed his stomach again, breathing little words of comfort as his finger curled into Steve’s jeans, and slowly drew the material down.

Abruptly, Bucky clapped a hand over his mouth, catching a breaking burst of laughter a half second too late.

Steve’s eyes flashed open, his head snapping up off the pillow, and he found Bucky’s eyes on him; locked below the hem of his shirt. His gaze was bright with humor, his cheeks lifted in a very poorly suppressed grin, and Steve felt uncertainty yank at his gut. He knew he was no Adonis. He didn’t have Bucky’s strength, and muscle, and gorgeous proportion- but he hadn’t though Bucky would _laugh_ at him. Turning scarlet with shame, Steve pushed himself up on his elbows, his heart suddenly slamming in his chest, his mind jumping to conclusions as misplaced anger tightened his chest. “What the hell’er you laughing at?” Steve snapped, his head turned away, hot, humiliated anger twisted his stomach into knots, as Bucky’s ringing laugh hit his eardrums like a slap.

“What the hell’re you _wearing?”_ Bucky broke out, his hand still half over his mouth, his eyes still locked below Steve’s waist, and Steve’s eyes abruptly snapped down. A fraction of a moment later, Steve’s anger and shame was suddenly swept out by a rush of mortified embarrassment. _Oh god_ \- the one day! The _one day_ Steve would decide he wanted his first real sexual experience- And he had to be wearing the most _embarrassing_ pair of American flag briefs ever invented.

An anguished groan tore from Steve’s lips, his hands instantly covering his face and Steve curled onto his side, wishing the mattress would swallow him whole. _The one day-_ the one fucking day- _“Oh my god-_ ” Steve groaned, scarlet with embarrassment. Bucky was still laughing, but now Steve wasn’t so much ashamed, as horribly flustered. That, in addition to feeling like a dick for assuming Bucky was laughing at _him,_ was enough to make Steve wish he could just curl up and disappear.

Bucky on the other hand, was absolutely delighted.

Barely managing to suppress his laughter, Bucky crawled over Steve’s curled figure, nuzzling close with a wide grin. “No! No, Stevie! I love them! They’re _perfect!”_ He laughed, trying to roll Steve back over, but the younger boy just curled tighter.

“No! Shut up!” Steve said through his hands, but Bucky could have sworn he heard a hint of a smile in his voice.

Bucky’s hands found Steve’s ribs, his face pressing into the side of his neck, and he kissed under his jaw, still grinning like a loon. “Not a chance!”

“Shut up! ‘S fucking embarrassing!”

In one, easy movement, Bucky rolled Steve over, and pulled his thighs around his waist, pulling his hands away from his flushed face and pinning them to the mattress on either side of his head. Steve let out a short squeak of surprise, his back arching before Bucky slid forward, his lips brushing lightly over his. “Stop it.” Bucky press firmly, but his eyes were bright, and his mouth was set in an easy smile. “Stop. They’re fucking _perfect_ for you.” Slowly, the intent behind Bucky’s gaze shifted, his right hand moving to Steve’s waist, and then dragging over the front of his briefs, lightly tracing one of the stars right over Steve’s cock. “Now…” Bucky murmured, Steve shivering as Bucky’s mouth brushed his. “ _Let’s make a mess of them.”_

Bucky’s hand dragged slowly down the front of his briefs, and Steve let out a shaky breath, feeling Bucky’s fingers sliding over the outline of his cock, his hip pressing in close. And this time- Steve could feel _everything._ It was nothing like before, with only pressure, and the uncomfortable scrape of jean and zippers. Now, Steve could feel the heavy, hard length of Bucky’s cock through his boxers. He could feel his hips beginning to grind, slow, and sinuous against his, and his fingers still stroking and playing at his hip. He pushed up into the touch, lifting his hips, and feeling his breath catch with surprise, and pride as Bucky moaned against his lips.

“Yeah-” Bucky murmured breathlessly, pressing in closer, taking Steve’s lower lip into his mouth and sucking gently on the tender flesh. “Mhh- yeah...Stevie…” Steve rolled his hips upward again, coaxing a low growl from the back of his boyfriend’s throat, and he pushed back like a challenge, rutting deeper, and Steve squirmed with pleasure.

“Buck-” He breathed, his slender arms coming up around his neck, holding him close as Bucky teased, and sucked on his lower lip, kissing, and nibbling, and driving him crazy. “More- Bucky, more…” Steve could feel his body going numb, and rubbery with pleasure, and all he could focus on was the push- the grind- the heavy thickness of Bucky’s cock rubbing right against his own. Bucky had fallen into a rhythm now, his mouth working against Steve’s, hands dragging over his body as he rutted against him like a dog in heat, and Steve could feel the moans that slipped from his lungs against his wet, swollen lips.

It was _exactly_ the way Steve had imagined it. Every night he lay beside Bucky in his bed, wondering how it would feel- this was exactly it. It was hot, and messy, and a little uncoordinated. It was desperate- hungry- and _perfect._

And then Bucky started _talking._

His mouth slid from Steve’s, wet lips dragging across his cheek and coming to rest of Steve’s blood-hot ear, his breath sending shivers down his spine. “Y’like that Stevie?” He whispered, rocking against him, and Steve could feel precome begin to darken the fabric of his briefs, leaving warm, wet spots against his skin. “Y’like how that feels? Like me right between your gorgeous thighs?” His hands dragged over Steve’s ribs and down over his thighs, gripping the tender flesh just hard enough to make him squirm, just enough to make him gasp in pleasure.

“Bucky-” He gasped, but Bucky hushed him softly, nipping over his earlobe.

“Shhh…quiet…” He whispered right against his skin, rolling his hips down until Steve had to stifle raw moans of pleasure, his cock throbbing between his legs. “Quiet Stevie…” Bucky murmured, “Gonna take care of you...gonna make you feel real good...but you gotta stay quiet...these walls ain't the thickest-” He whispered, grinding against him and muffling Steve’s whines with a kiss. He hummed into it, the sound the filthiest thing Steve had ever heard, and the heat in his stomach flushed hotter.

Feeling the way Steve was beginning to squirm against him- pushing upward and rubbing against him to get more friction- Bucky dragged Steve’s legs tighter around his waist. He dragged a muffled gasp from Steve’s lungs, his plush, red lips turning up into a grin against his mouth as he bore down on him- harder- deeper. His hands dragged over his bony body, sliding under his shirt and over his ribs; dragging down to squeeze the sweet, round lobes of Steve’s ass.

Steve felt the tension in his body coiling so tight he could hardly stand it, but Bucky’s mouth muffled any words that tried to slip through. He could feel his desperation peaking- feel the throb in his rock hard cock pulsing painfully through his entire body. And Bucky just pressed closer, swallowing his whines, and whimpers, and gasp, biting, and sucking on his lips as Steve’s hands scrabbled helplessly at him. Steve grabbed at Bucky’s back and shoulders, his nails raking at his shirt as he bucked under him, a sound bordering a sob breaking from his mouth as his thighs tightened around Bucky’s waist, and Bucky took the encouragement.

The bed frame creaked and thumped underneath them, and despite Bucky’s caution, broken streams of gasps and pitching cries slip from Steve’s swollen mouth, but to Bucky, he’d never heard anything sweeter. Steve was falling apart- for _him._ Steve was grabbing at him so desperately Bucky could feel his nails digging into his neck. His hips jerked helplessly, his arms shaking and Bucky wanted nothing more than to make Steve feel this good all the time. He wanted Steve like this whenever he would have him; gasping, moaning, and absolutely _trembling_ with pleasure.

With one more filthy drag of his hips, Steve arched underneath Bucky, his nails digging deeper into his neck as warm, wet come spilled into his underwear, smearing across his pubic bone and dripping down into the cleft of his ass. Instantly, his sensitivity skyrocketed, the friction of Bucky, still humping against him, almost more than he could take. The sensation burnt through his body like molten metal, and Steve clung to Bucky _-groaning-_ panting heavily as Bucky chased his own climax, abruptly pressing in closer and making a strangled sound against Steve’s lips.

Pleasure shocked through Bucky’s body, dirtying his boxers, and turning his limbs to rubber as he rocked helplessly against Steve, drinking in the sweet, soft noises that slipped from his boyfriend's lips. And suddenly, the strength went out of Bucky’s arms, and he sunk in against Steve, breathing heavily, his lashes brushing his cheeks. Bucky couldn’t remember _ever_ feeling like this before. It wasn’t sex, it was just a little friction- just a little kissing- but it was _Steve._ It was all Steve, and Bucky knew in a moment he was hooked- that he had been hooked, well and truly, since the moment he’d met Steve. All their nights sleeping on couch cushions as children, thinking of nothing but the fun they could have, and the stories they could whisper- all the nights they spent, lying close together, as teenagers, thinking only of what it would feel like to touch, and kiss what they weren’t allowed to have- it was all building up to this. Every moment he and Steve had spent together had built up to this undeniable end- this singular, unavoidable conclusion; that they would be together, someday, as lovers, and they would be happier than they had ever been in their lives.

For a long moment, there was only silence, and heavy breathing, and little sighs of pleasure as the adrenalin and endorphins trickled out. And suddenly, Bucky turned his face into the side of Steve’s neck and let out a lazy chuckle, nuzzling close and pressing a sweet, salty kiss to Steve’s neck. “Y’know how hard it’s gonna be to keep me offa you now, Rogers?” He murmured teasingly, his hips twitching just slightly against his, just enough to feel a little reminder of that buzz- just enough to feel the outline of Steve’s cock beneath the thin layers of damp fabric.

The lazy little rub, tugged a soft sigh from Steve’s lips, and he lifted his hips into it before fatigue pulled them back to the bed. “You still got rules to follow, Barnes…” He reminded him, although if Steve were perfectly honest with himself, this had done nothing to slake his curiosity; only feed it. If just having Bucky rut up against him until they both go off felt so good, what would it feel like to have his hands on him? His mouth? _Oh god_ \- what would _sex_ feel like? There were so many possibilities that Steve had spent very little time considering before. Of course he’d entertained the thought when he’d been a horny teenager, lusting over his best friends body, and hands, and lips, but he hadn’t ever thought of it in the context of a _genuine_ possibility.

Now Steve was suddenly assaulted with a hundred thought at once. Would he need to prep his body? Clean himself if Bucky was going to open him up with his fingers? What if Bucky wanted to use his _tongue?_ What if he wanted _Steve_ to use _his?_ Steve hadn’t ever considered how he felt about pleasuring someone with his tongue, and he couldn’t tell if the thought disgusted, or aroused him. There was so much- there was so much he didn’t know- so much he wanted to try out that it was overwhelming, and it took Steve the better part of a minute to realize Bucky had been speaking to him.

He blinked, dazed, his mind still looping a thousand different questions, and dumping heap upon heap of hypotheticals into his head. “Sorry?” He asked, his lungs little tight, feeling almost smothered under the weight of so much potential.

Bucky shifted, looking down at Steve, seeing to disconnected look in his eyes; the stunned, dazed shock written all over his face, and immediately decided that teasing Steve fell very low on the priority list. “Nothing, forget it.” Bucky said easily, moving to cradle Steve’s jaw softly in one hand. “You alright?”

“Yeah…” Steve breathed, blinking again as he wet his lips with a light brush of his tongue. “Yeah- I’m fine Buck, I just kinda got...a little overwhelmed I guess…” He admitted, feeling a hint of embarrassment in his chest but he tucked it away. Bucky _knew_ he was inexperienced, and so far, he’d been more understanding, and more patient about it than Steve could have hoped for. He wasn’t gonna laugh at him. He was gonna walk through this with him, he was going to help him figure out what he liked, and what he didn’t, and Steve held no concern that Bucky wouldn’t stop if he asked him. All things considered, Steve wouldn’t have wanted anyone else in the world to have been his first time. And really, it had only ever been Bucky that he’d wanted.

Bucky’s mouth turned up into an easy smile, his worry fading, and he touched a light kiss to Steve’s chin. “Not surprised…” He murmured. “S’a lot to take in. It feel good though?”

Steve gave a short snort, his toes curling inside his socks, his crooked spine arching up off the mattress as he stretched. “Yeah-”” He laughed shortly. “Yeah, Buck, it felt fucking _amazing,_ but now I’m going outta my head ‘cause there’s _so much_ I’ve never tried, I- I wanna try so much with you, but I dunno what I’m ready for- or what I _want-_ or what I’ll even _like-”_

“Hey-” Bucky said abruptly, the word coming out as a breathless chuckle, and Bucky took Steve’s flushed face in his hands, silencing the stream of words with a look. “Easy Stevie. One thing at a time.” Bucky had thought Steve might be a little intimidated by the sheer mountain of things he had yet to try, and his reaction was about what he’d expected. Steve was always striving to prove himself. He didn’t like being seen as ignorant, or helpless, so he was trying to tackle everything at once, and it just wasn’t possible. He needed to slow down, and Bucky was just hoping he’d let him help with that. Bucky held Steve’s gaze for a long moment, before his smile softened, and he began brushing his thumbs softly over Steve’s cheeks, nuzzling close enough to touch kisses against his lips. “One thing at a time…” Bucky murmured against his lips, and Steve let out a little huff underneath him. “Whadd’you like about _this?_ Start there…”

Steve’s nose crinkled, his brow drawing slightly as he thought. He wanted to keep plowing through his question, and focusing on one little thing about something they’d already done seemed a little trivial, but Steve indulged him. “I guess, the friction felt really good...I liked you touching me…” Steve admitted after a half-second’s pause. “That was almost as much of what got me off as the friction...I liked...feeling you through your boxers...” He was flushing now, his cheeks pink as Bucky smiled, continuing to lightly kiss his chin, and the corners of his lips as he spoke.

“Anything you didn’t like?” Bucky murmured, Steve’s skin hot under his lips.

“Well. I’m _sticky.”_ Steve stated matter of factly. “And it’s getting cold, and it feels gross, but, besides that…”

Laughing softly, Bucky eased back, his nose wrinkling slightly at the reminder and he pulled away from Steve’s warm, tiny body, leaving him laying on his back on the bed. “Understandable.” He said easily, shifting a little where he stood as Steve’s words brought a sudden awareness to the cooling wet come seeping through his boxers. Now that the topic had come up, Bucky was beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable in the sticky, wet undergarment, and he turned to Steve’s dresser, tugging open the top drawer and rummaging through.  “I hope you have something in here other than American flag shorts…” Bucky murmured, purposefully speaking just loud enough for Steve to hear him, and a rewarding, indignant scoff met his ears.

“If you don’t wanna get thrown outta here on your ear in your dirty underwear, I suggest you lay off.”  Steve hissed with a faint flush, following Bucky up and stalking over to his side. He bent over the drawer, rummaging through until he came up with two pairs of clear boxers, and he thrust one against Bucky’s chest, firmly ignoring the grin on his lips.

“I’m just sayin they wouldn’t suit me.” Bucky teased lightly, hooking his thumbs into his boxers and dragging them casually off his hips. “You on the other hand…”

Steve found his mouth hanging open. The half-thought through retort died before it ever reached his lips, and his sensitive cock twitched in the confines of his damp briefs. Bucky was fucking _gorgeous._ Even soft, even in an oddly nonsexual setting, the sight of Bucky’s cock yanked the breath from Steve’s weak lungs, and the maddening thing was, he didn’t even seem to _notice._ Bucky turned to the side, yanking a few tissues from the box on Steve’s desk and wiping casually at the mess smeared through the thatch of dark curls at the base of his cock, not at all even ruffled by the fact that he was standing in the middle of the room, in only his shirt as Steve ogled at him breathlessly. His stance was open, and casual, his cock resting, flaccid, against the inside of his thigh, still streaked with traces of his release. Only once Bucky had tugged Steve’s boxers on over his own hips did he notice Steve staring.

For a moment, Bucky had the _audacity_ to look so innocently confused, and then a more appropriate smirk of realization pulled at his mouth. “See something you like, tough guy?” He asked easily, adjusting the waistband of the boxers, which -cut for someone much smaller- hugged his crotch and ass obscenely, outlining everything for Steve to see in aching detail.

Steve found himself biting his lower lip, worrying at the flushed skin as he stared at the outline of Bucky’s cock beneath his own boxers. Somehow, knowing they were _his_ made this whole situation all the more arousing, and he almost couldn’t think to respond to Bucky’s light tease. He blinked rapidly, abruptly wrenching his eyes away and turning his back quickly to Bucky. “Shudd’up Buck.” He muttered with a smirk, flushed, and embarrassed, but still feeling too good to be genuinely flustered.

Bucky shifted up behind him, and Steve felt a shiver run up his spine as Bucky’s hips brushed his ass before pressing flush; his fingers -flesh, and prosthetic- playing along the waistband of his briefs. “You already snuck _your_ look…” He breathed in Steve’s ear, smiling playfully. “You gonna let _me_ steal one? Or do you wanna stay in those wet flag briefs all day?”

Steve licked his lips, Bucky’s mouth against his ear sending electricity racing through his body; his hands along his waist warming his stomach with pleasure. But he was still a little body-shy, always had been. It was one of the reasons that the dry humping on his bed had been one of the easiest ways to start. Bucky didn’t have to see his body, and Steve didn’t have to deal with the uncertainty of a potential rejection.

He managed a tight huff, his cheeks hot, his stomach suddenly oddly tight. “Well I ain’t no model like you, Buck.”

Bucky’s hands tightened subtly on his hips, his mouth pressing closer into his jaw. “You’re a shit liar.” He breath, and Steve felt his heart turn over at the contradiction.

“Y’can’t laugh.”

“I’m not gonna _laugh,_ Steve!” Bucky exclaimed, scandalized, and almost offended at the suggestion. He’d always thought Steve was beautiful. Every part of him. His knobby knees, his crooked spine, the way his soft pink lips would purse when he drew, to Bucky those things had always been the most beautiful thing in the world, because they were all _Steve._ He loved every inch of him; even the piece he had yet to be privileged to see.

Steve, chin ducked against his chest, cheek still pink, let out a noncommittal sound, shifting a little against him, and Bucky rubbed softly over his prominent hipbones. “I’m not gonna laugh Steve.” Bucky reassure him, a little softer this time, and Steve gave a tiny huff, his hands moving to his waistband. Smiling gently against his neck, Bucky followed the movements of his hands, his fingers folding over Steve’s as he slowly slid his briefs down off the knobs of his hips.

Bucky couldn’t have laughed if he wanted to, because suddenly, all he could do was _stare._ Nothing could have been more fitting;  more _perfect_ for Steve. His cock wasn’t particularly thick, or long, but it was smooth, and sturdy, with a gorgeous natural bent that curved it gently upwards from the wiry blond hairs at the base. He let out his air in a soft breath, his hands easing slowly up Steve’s slender thighs as Steve shuffled out of the dirtied briefs, still caught in embarrassed silence. Bucky was itching to touch. He wanted so badly to brushing his fingers over it, curl his hand around it and bring Steve off; feel it harden under his touch, leaking precome down his fingers- but Bucky swallowed back the urge. He didn’t know what Steve wanted, and he knew without being told -just from Steve’s behavior, and noises, and actions- that he was sensitive after coming. The last thing Bucky wanted way to bring him any kind of discomfort in a sexual setting.  

“Can I...help you clean up?” Bucky breathed, and Steve looked over his shoulder, half-way stunned at the look of wet mouthed desire on Bucky’s face.

He nodded slightly, flattered, embarrassed, and baffled by the attention. But as Bucky pulled gently on his hips, Steve eased back willingly, moving back until Bucky could reach the box of tissues on the desk. Bucky tugged two free, tucking one in the palm of his prosthetic hands and moving the other gently around Steve’s front. His breath was warm on the smaller boy’s neck, his movements slow, and gentle as he carefully cleaned at the mess smear through his pubic hairs, and across the skin of his hips.

Steve found himself biting at his lower lip again, his eyes falling closed as Bucky gently cleaned him up. The brushes were light, and gentle, and still almost too much after the pleasure than had burned through every nerve in his body, and pitched his sensitivity to a peak. But Bucky was slow, and tender as he cleaned the cooling streaks of come off his skin, not quite committing before he finally ran the soft tissue over his cock. A little, stifled sound escaped Steve, his lungs expanding abruptly, his shoulders pressing back against Bucky’s chest, and he stopped dead, his hand pulling away.

“Sorry-” Bucky breathed, but Steve caught his wrist, letting out the breath as he rested his head back against Bucky’s strong chest.

“Gentle…” Steve murmured; a caution, but not a rejection. He liked Bucky touching him, Steve knew _that_ after only a brief moment, but every sense in his body was still burning; everything magnified a hundred percent, and Bucky had to treat him with care.

Taking the gentle caution, Bucky eased his touch, cleaning Steve off with only the lightest brushes, and strokes, until his shoulder went lax against him, and Steve lifted his hips against the touch. It felt good- it felt so good- even this short after Bucky bringing him off, Steve could feel arousal starting to stir in the pit of his stomach, manifesting in his cock beginning to harden in Bucky’s hand. Bucky nuzzled in closer, kissing Steve neck gently, the crumpled, sticky tissue dropping to the floor as he curled his bare hand around Steve’s length, beginning to tug, slow, and lazy, drawing soft little sighs from Steve’s lips. The slender blond leaned into it, his head dropping back against Bucky, eyes closed, mouth open; his hips canted in towards Bucky’s hand. He melted into the touch, his body tingling at the slow build, the breath leaving his lungs in sweet breaths, and moans.

Suddenly Bucky’s phone chimed.

Bucky blinked, his hand faltering, his gaze flickering -disoriented- around the room, before landing on his crumpled jeans, the phone still tucked in the pocket. Steve shifted slightly against him, breaking out of the haze of pleasure, as Bucky’s hand went slack around his cock.

“Do you need to get that?” He asked softly, and Bucky hesitated, for a moment, uncertain. And then his mouth set into a stiff line. He seldom got texts from people, and if it wasn’t Steve, it was usually someone from the fraternity, and that was more than Bucky wanted to deal with. He was with Steve- he was feeling fucking amazing, and they weren’t gonna take that from him.

“No,” He said levelly, purpose creeping back into his tone as the warm, tingling pressure around Steve’s cock resumed, and he smirked into Steve’s neck. “It can wait.” Steve couldn’t help a smile. He had been hoping Bucky would say that.

Slowly, Bucky fell back into the natural pace, his hand stroking, and dragging at Steve’s cock, pleasuring the younger boy, coaxing sweet noises from his lips. His kissed along his neck, and jaw, finding a sweet spot just at the hollow of Steve’s throat that made him whine, lifting his hips into the touch. Steve’s cock fit in his hand like it was made to be there, the perfect length- the perfect shape and curve, and Bucky had to try very hard to remind himself that they were taking this one thing at a time, and he was _supremely_ privileged just to have this, even though he wanted to push Steve down on the bed and ravish every inch of him until he’d melted into a puddle of orgasmic pleasure.

Steve’s hands found Bucky’s thighs, gripping at the soft flesh for support, his fingertips digging in as he bit off little sounds of pleasure. He was almost more overstimulated than he could stand, but at the same time, it felt _so_ fucking _good_ he never wanted Bucky to stop. The pleasure was almost painful, but it was the best thing Steve had ever felt. It burnt, and tingled all at the same time. It was uncomfortable, yet Steve craved more, wanting Bucky to use his hands to reduce him to a shivering mess against him.

And suddenly, the chiming met their ears again. But this time, more insistent. One after another. _An actual call._

Reluctantly, Bucky dragged to a stop, breathing a groan against Steve’s neck, but Steve’s hands found their way to Bucky’s, gently unfolding his fingers from around his aching cock. “Go on,” Steve said breathlessly, and Bucky gave a low growl of frustration before turning away, leaving Steve rubbing at himself to sooth the burn as he rummaged through his pockets.

Seizing his phone from his discarded jeans, Bucky straightened, receiving the call without bothering to glance at the number. “Hello?” Bucky asked, trying to hide the slight roughness in his tone- the breathlessness- the suggestion of his close-door activities with his childhood best friend.

Giving up on the hope of Bucky getting him off with his gorgeous hands, Steve pulled on his own pair of clean boxers, adjusting the band as he looked around the messy dorm floor for his own jeans. And then Steve realized that Bucky had said nothing more than his initial greeting, and his eyes flickered over to him, one eyebrow lifted in a look of curiosity. Bucky was standing against the bed, his face registering a trace of shock, though no immediate signs of serious trouble. He blinked, mouth opening and closing for just a second before he blinked shortly again, giving a sharp nod. “Yeah-” He said quickly, his gaze flicking up to Steve before dropping away. “Yeah, yeah sure...uh...see you in a minute...bye.”

Steve watched Bucky silently, his head tipping to the side, staring as Bucky glanced down at the phone, and then up, his brow pulled into a knot in the middle of his forehead, his kiss-swollen lips slightly parted. Steve eased forward, jeans in hand. “What was that?” Steve asked easily, mostly curious, but a part of him hung on to a trace of concern. He was always a little worried for Bucky, and things like this brought it out. But Bucky didn't seem distressed. He looked more confused than anything else. 

Bucky wet his mouth with a sweep of his tongue, his gaze lingering on Steve’s face. “That was Becca,” He started, his tone perplexed, and surprised. “She’s here on campus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's American flag briefs  
>   
> The next chapter will be up soon! I love to hear all your thoughts and comments! <3


	7. Chapter 7

Steve followed Bucky out of his room, still fussing with the zipper of his jeans, still feeling the fabric stick slightly to the inside of his thigh as a tingling reminder of what they’d shared. But there were more pressing things at hand. For one; why Bucky’s little sister had materialized on their campus. For another, whether or not she was alone...whether or not Bucky’s parents -the ones who’d kept Steve’s memory from Bucky- were with her.

Bucky was a few steps ahead of him but Steve didn’t even need to see his face to know exactly how his expression would read. His lips would be pulled into a tight line, his brow furrowed in a knot as surprise, confusion, and concern warred for dominance on his face. He held the same concerns Steve did. His parents were more than Bucky wanted to deal with. It had been less than a week since Bucky had found out what they’d done to him- to _them,_ and Bucky didn’t trust himself with his anger yet. Eventually, he knew he’d need to make his parents account for what they’d done, but he wasn’t ready for that- not yet.

But Bucky was also glad to know his sister was here. He’d missed her. He wanted to see her, yet at the same time, a vastly different concern manifested itself in wondering what had brought her here. She’d sounded... _odd_...on the phone. Quieter. Not quite herself, although not obviously distressed. She’d told him she was outside the dorm, and Bucky had promised to be right down, and that was the last of it. Beyond that Bucky had no idea what Becca was doing here- or what she needed- or even if she was okay, which was why Steve wasn’t at all surprised when Bucky’s strides started to unconsciously quicked, and Steve had to trot to keep up with him.

The outside door opened with a pop, and Bucky strode out, eyes snapping around anxiously, Steve’s footfalls registering dimly to his ear. Of course his mind had gone to the worst case scenario. _His parents knew. They’d upset Becca. She’d run away. She was in trouble. She was hurt. She was-_

_Right there._

Bucky blinked. She was right _there._ Becca stood just down the sidewalk, bundled against the chilly autumn air, a shoebox tucked under one arm, her long, dark brown hair caught up in a high ponytail. She looked ainsty, shuffling from one foot to another, but here eyes were clear, and she didn’t look hurt, or afraid. Bucky let the knot in his chest ease. “Beccs!” He called, lengthening his side, his heart stuttering in his chest as his little sister wheeled around, her ponytail whipping around her face, before her mouth spread into a grin and she bolted over.

_“Bucky!”_

Becca hit him with a thump, her face pressing into his chest, one arms still holding the shoebox while the other gripped tightly into the back of his shirt, and Bucky’s breath left him in a low chuckle.

“Hey-” He laughed softly, returning the hug, and nuzzling his face into the side of Becca’s head the same way he did when he hugged Steve; breathing in her familiar scent, soaking in her warmth and affection. “What are you doing here, crazy?” Bucky laughed, drawing back, and squishing her face with his right hand, squeezing her cheeks into fishy lips before Becca tugged her face out of his hand.

“Stop it!” She whined with a grin, passing a hand over his face as though to wipe off the trace of Bucky’s hand on her face. “You’re gonna get your gay all over me!” But the complaint was spoken with a smile, and Bucky’s nose wrinkled as he reached out and abruptly pawed his hands all over her face.

“Careful, it’s catching-” He warned, dragging his palms and fingers over Becca’s cheeks despite her giggles and attempt to shove him away. To be honest, Bucky had been a little worried about how Becca might react to him now, especially after finding out the extent of his parents influence on the both of them, but she was _joking_ with him, and to Bucky, it was better than any heartfelt speech of acceptance she could have given.

Finally, Becca managed to pull her head out of reach of Bucky’s hands, and she took a step backwards, batting in front of her face with a smile. “Okay! Okay! _God-_ now I’ll have to get tested or something!”

“Shut up, dummy,” Bucky grinned, and moved to pull her back into a hug, which Becca accepted graciously, this time lingering before easing back with a small smile. All this time, Steve had stood back, watching the siblings react with a tiny smile lingering on his lips. So far, Becca hadn’t dropped a crushing bombshell, she hadn’t rejected Bucky, or manipulated around Bucky’s sexuality the way his parents had. So far, everything was okay…

Steve shifted where he stood, and Becca’s eyes instantly slid over to him, and her smile softened shyly, her hand twitching in a tiny wave. “Hi Steve,” She said quietly, and Steve moved up beside Bucky, smiling reassuringly as Becca dropped her eyes away and tucked her hands behind her. What seemed like forever ago, Steve and Becca had been good friends, what with his and Bucky always being together, but Steve understood why she seemed reserved now, and if he knew Becca, it wasn’t because of his sexuality. _She didn’t know if Steve was angry at her._ Bucky was one thing, he was her brother. He knew their parents, and he understood how scared she’d been of sending Bucky to hell had she opened her mouth, but Steve...she wasn’t sure...and she was afraid someone she’d once considered to be a close friend would hate her for keeping him a secret from the boy he loved.

Steve stepped forward, and pulled Becca into the warmest, strongest hug he could manage with his thin, bony limbs, and Becca gave a squeak of surprise, her eyes flashing up as Steve drew her in. For a half breath, she faltered, and then gave, her unoccupied arm coming up to wrap around Steve’s waist as he hugged her.

“Hey Becca...been a while…” Steve said into her dark brown hair that was so much like Bucky’s. She nodded against his shoulder, her face pressed in against him even though she was as tall as Steve now. He could feel the relief seeping into her bones, chasing out the anxiety and fear.

“Yeah…” She said in a small voice, her eyes flickering up to Bucky over Steve’s shoulder, and then back down. “Yeah, it has…”

As Steve eased back, Bucky moved forward, reaching out to grip Becca’s shoulder with his warm, heavy hand, jostling her lightly with a smile. “You still didn’t answer my question,” Bucky said easily, his tone open, and relaxed, as though to chase out any doubt Becca might have about either of them being upset with her. “What are you doing here?”

Becca faltered for a second, her tongue darting out to nervously wet her lips, before she eased the shoe box out from behind her back, slowing holding it out to Bucky. “I brought something for you,” Becca murmured shyly, her cheeks warm as Bucky took the box from her hands. Slowly, curiously, Bucky pulled off the lid, Steve moving in to peer over his shoulder, and together, their eyes fell on the contents of the box.

_Photos._ Or at least, _mostly_ photos.

The box was crammed with picture frames and loose photos, but the more they looked, the more they saw that there was more than just that. There were a handful of letters too, and more than a few charcoal sketches, and as Bucky looked at the collection of items, realization sunk on him like a weight.

The physical reminders of Steve’s existence that Bucky had only _assumed_  existed filled the box in his hands. The photos where all of him and Steve at various points of their lives; as scrappy little kids, as teenagers...In a few of the photo’s, Bucky’s eyes on Steve were so soft- so loving, that Bucky was baffled his parents hadn't known before. In every picture, in one way or another, the depth of Bucky’s feelings for his best friend peeked through.

The drawings were clearly Steve’s work, many of them capturing Bucky iin aching detail. His smiling face. His figure standing knee deep in a pond, or stream, holding a frog in one hand. Him, lying beside Steve, sound asleep with his soft lips parted.

Bucky pieced through the box in a bit of a daze, his fingers occasionally finding a small object; a keyring, a worn baseball, other mementos of his and Steve’s shared life that he could no longer completely remember. Sometimes he could place their significance, like the dark gray newsie style cap that was folded in the bottom of the box. It had been a gift from Steve, and Bucky could remember wearing it endlessly, not because it particularly flattered him, but because Steve’s mouth would turn up into a faint little smile every time he saw him wearing it. Other times, the significance was lost, but every one of them had ties back to Steve.

“Mom threw them away…” Becca said quietly, nearly startling Bucky for how lost he’d been in the gift. “But I...I didn’t think it was right...her getting rid of your stuff, but I didn’t think I could give it back either, so I kinda...kept it...I hope that’s okay…”

Bucky blinked, surprised to find his throat tight, surprised by how his emotions came to the surface easier and easier with each passing day. Whereas after the accident, Bucky was cold, and silent, and withdrawn, the more he remembered, and the more he was with Steve, the easier Bucky found it to laugh, to smile, and even to feel sad. All the damage that the accident had done stopped up his emotions, but now, the people he loved where breaking through that barrier bit by bit, as his memories of them seeped back through the cracks. He cleared his throat softly, his grip readjusting on the box as he looked up at Becca, his mouth turning into a warm smile.

“That’s fine, Beccs…” He said gently, and Becca seemed to let out a breath of relief at the positive words, a little smile tugging at her mouth. Turning to press the box gently into Steve’s hands, Bucky drew his sister back in against him, his chest tight, his arms -flesh and prosthetic- coming up around her shoulders as he cradled her close, his right hand stroking over her dark brown hair.

And suddenly, Becca gave a hitching little shiver in his arms, her face pressing deeper as she reached up, her hand curling over his prosthetic for support. Bucky made a soft sound in the back of his throat, a soft noise of distress as Becca began to softly cry against his chest. “I-I’m _sorry-”_ She whispered, her voice higher than normal; shaky, and uncertain, her tone breaking as the end of the word came out it a ragged breath. “I’m sorry Bucky- I- I thought- I just-” Her breath caught in her chest and came out as a broken sob. “I-I just didn’t want you to go to hell- mom and dad said-”

_“Hey-”_ Bucky cut her off softly, his chest aching as he drew back, taking Becca’s face at lifting it to his, staring her fiercely in the eyes. “Just cause mom and dad are older doesn't always make them _right_ okay? Now I’m not sure about you, but I think if God loves us the way everyone says he does, he’s gonna want us to be happy…” Becca sniffed softly, her lashes wet, cheeks pink, and blotchy as she reached up to discreetly wipe at her nose. Smiling fondly, Bucky stroked a stray piece of her bangs out of her eyes, tucking it gently behind her ears. “I know this wasn’t your fault, and so does Steve, and anyone else who matters, okay? And if mom and dad get mad at you for telling the _truth,_ then maybe _they_ need to think a little harder about what God wants…Now come on, dummy…” He said gently, wiping at her cheeks. “I ain’t mad at you, so wring out your collar, you’re gonna drip all over the sidewalk…”

At that, Becca managed a little laugh, and scrubbed over her eyes, managing to push Bucky away with the opposite hand. “You’re such a pain in the ass, y’know that Bucky?”

“Hey!” Bucky scolded, “Watch you’re goddamn language!”

The wet little laugh that slipped Becca’s lips did Bucky’s heart a world of good. He hated the way this whole situation had affected her; hated the fear, and the guilt, and the secrecy that had been pressed on her. He hated that their parents had decided it was somehow okay to make Becca feel responsible for her brother’s soul…he hated that she felt it was her fault. But mostly, Bucky just hated to see his little sister cry.

Steve eased forward. Again, he’d found himself hovering in the background of the scene, but he couldn’t really say he minded all that much. For the most part, this was between Bucky and his little sister. They needed some time to feel out where they stood, to work through the damaging secret that had been forced onto the both of them. But now, the mood had eased. Bucky was smiling again, and Becca was scrubbing the last traces of her tears from her cheeks, and Steve eased forward, and let his fingers twin gently through Bucky’s.

Bucky blinked; startled, and then embarrassed that he’d forgotten Steve was back there. He glanced over sharply, before quickly dropping his head away, his cheeks coloring, but Steve just squeezed his fingers and nudged their shoulders together, his mouth turning into a warm smile. “Okay?” He breathed, almost mouthing the words, and Bucky gave a slightly nod, taking a fraction of a second to peck a feather light kiss against his lips.

“Yeah.” Bucky murmured in response, before he caught the way Steve’s eyes slid over, and followed his gaze.

Becca was looking at the two of them with an expression that somehow simultaneously embodied happiness, discomfort, uncertainty, embarrassment, and humor. She looked like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh and tease them, or stare _very_ hard at her feet and hope they didn’t do that thing with their lips again. And Bucky didn’t suppose he could blame her. With how young she was, and how she’d been raised, Becca had almost no exposure to this sort of thing, and having it suddenly right in front of her, and in the form of her own brother was, admittedly, a little conflicting. But she’d figure her own feelings out eventually. Bucky could afford her that patience.

Giving Bucky a little, reassuring smile, Steve let go of his hand and closed the distance between himself and Becca, tweaking her slightly lowered chin with a warm, familial kind of affection. “Sorry,” Steve said easily, “the PDA a little much this early in the game?”

_“No-”_ Becca blurted abruptly, coloring at the cheeks before Steve’s open, searching stare got the best of her and she relinquished a shy little smile. “Well...maybe a b _i_ t- it’s not _a little much_...it’s just, kinda _weird-_ seeing you two kiss and all.”

Steve shrugged easily. “Fair enough. To be honest, Buck and I have only been _together-together_ for a couple weeks, it’s still taking a little getting used to on our end too.”

“Yeah?” Becca asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know, but faintly curious at the same time.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, you know how Bucky told you and your folks that he’d been in love with me for a long time?” He pressed, raising his eyebrows slightly, and the younger girl nodded. “Well-” He continued, ”I’d...kinda been in love with him too...since I was a kid actually, and sometimes, I _still_ catch myself forgetting that we’re together...that I don’t have to worry about him not liking me back because...‘cause I _know,_ even if I still forget sometimes...so, don’t worry too much. It’s a little weird for everyone.”

Becca smiled slightly, her eyes flickering back to Bucky, and then to Steve before something critical slipped into her gaze, and she was suddenly studying Steve closely. “You _really_ love Bucky?” She asked, the vaguely stern tone losing its bite in her soft, high voice.

Instantly, Steve nodded, his eyes locking dead with Becca’s. “More than anything.”

“And you’re not gonna do something stupid like break his heart or dump him or something like that, right?”

Steve almost wanted to laugh, but Becca was completely serious. All religious beliefs, all parental influence aside, Becca wanted to know that her brother, who had already been through so much, wasn’t going to be subjected to a broken heart because the boy he loved with his whole heart only loved him with _half_ of his. This was no laughing matter, because as far as family members went, Becca’s opinion was the only one that could _possibly_ matter to Steve.

Reaching out, Steve gripped both of Becca’s hands in his, remembering from their time as friends that she, like Bucky, was extremely tactile. Bucky may not remember yet, but he and his sister both thrived on touch, and Steve knew that that would make the most impact; offer Becca the most assurance. “I’m not gonna hurt Bucky…” Steve said, his tone level, even, and deadly serious, his eyes locked on Becca’s. Squeezing her fingers softly, Steve gave a little nod of his head. “I promise Beccs...Your brother means the world to me, and nothing's gonna change that, not your parents, or his accident- _hell-_ Bucky didn’t even know who I _was_ when we met, but that _still_ didn’t change me loving him...We’ve got each other back now...I’m not giving that up.”

For a moment longer, Becca stared -critical- before the warmth slipped back into her eyes and she squeezed his hands in return. From a few feet back, Bucky’s mouth spread into an easy grin. “Y’know,” He said smoothly, easing up beside Steve’s shoulder so that the smaller boy could rest back against him. “Steve’s friend Peggy asked me the same thing. You kinda sounded like her just now.”

“Good thing?” Becca asked, quirking one eyebrow in an expression maddeningly similar to Bucky, and Steve and her brother both gave a short snort.

“Very.” Steve said emphatically, as Bucky barked out a _‘yeah, I’m pretty sure,’_ and Steve’s head whipped back towards him. _“Pretty_ sure?” He asked, smirking over his shoulder at him.

Bucky scoffed. “Hey- Your ex-girl scared the _shit_ out of me!”

_“Ex-girl?!”_ Becca echoed, grinning like a loon and  causing a little color to rise in Steve’s cheeks. “What are you, a heart breaker now?” She demanded, jabbing a finger into his sunken stomach, and Steve batted her hand away with an awkward half-smile.

“No!”

_“She_ dump _you?”_

“Kinda- but it’s _fine!_ I was still in love with Buck, and she knew it! It was honestly the best thing she coulda done for me, if- if you met her you’d understand.”

“Maybe I’m gonna have to.” Becca said coyly, rocking back on her heels, her hands tucked behind her back, and Bucky couldn’t help but think how good it was to see all the tension gone from her face. With Becca bantering with Steve, she looked like herself again; young, free of guilt and apprehension. She looked like his baby sister again, and Bucky hated that he couldn’t remember more of her like this.

But he wasn’t going to forget anymore.

Bucky drank in the faces of the two people he loved most in the world as Steve snagged at Becca’s jacket and pulled her close to rub his bony knuckles over his scalp, and Becca dug her sneaky fingers into his ribs. He soaked in the sound of their laughter, and committed their expression to memory. He memorized the way the light hit their hair- dark brown, and pale gold. He memorized the pink in their cheeks, and the way Steve’s lungs rattled as he laughed. Bucky may have lost a lot of his memory, he may have huge holes in the stories of Becca and Steve’s lives, but what mattered now, was that he could make new ones; and he wanted this to be one of them.

“Buck?”

Becca’s voice tugged him out of his thoughts, and Bucky blinked turned his focus to his little sister as she looked up at him expectantly, face flushed and hair a mess from her tousle with Steve. Cracking an embarrassed smile, Bucky gave his head a short shake. “What?”

Becca rolled her eyes, snapping her fingers in front of his face with a goodnatured grin. “I know space is fun but the rest of us are here on earth. Wanna join us?” To that, Bucky just smirked, and Becca stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “I asked if I could stay over with you tonight...I haven't seen you in forever. I’ve missed you.”

Bucky’s smirk softened, and his reply formed on his tongue only to suddenly wither to a husk, and die before they could leave his lips. He _wanted_ to say yes, he really did, but Bucky had suddenly been confronted with the image of taking Becca into the frat house, and that- that scene sat like a knot in his gut. _He couldn’t_. He didn’t want his little sister exposed to those kinds of people. He didn’t want her to hear the way they talked about Steve, and he sure as fuck didn’t want them talking like that about _her._ Becca was only fourteen, but the more Bucky became aware of the kind of people he was still locked in with, the more certain he was that they weren’t below objectifying a teenager. He wouldn’t take Becca into that.

“I wanna say yes,” Bucky started reluctantly, already seeing the optimism on her face falter. “But I wouldn’t really have a place for you to stay-” _god- he fucking hated the look of disappointment in her eyes,_ but he had to hold his ground on this one...but that didn’t mean it had to no for good. Bucky’s chin suddenly lifted, and he moved forward, taking Becca’s shoulders as the girl’s eyes dropped away. “Hey-” He said easily, his mouth lifting into a little smile. “Beccs- how about this- I’m looking into changing my residence plan. I’m just- kinda working through the details at the moment, but I’m gonna have a different place to stay real soon. You can come stay with me then, okay?. It’s not gonna be long. I promise. Hmm?” Bucky gave her a gentle jostle, until Becca lifted her eyes again and offered him a faint smile.

“Yeah…” She said softly before lightly socking him in the arm. “Okay- only cause you won’t be the gentleman and take the floor for a night.”

Bucky smile tightened. _If only it were that simple._ But he abruptly shook off the thought, resolving not to let those assholes get into his head right at this moment. “It’s a deal.” He smirked, and Becca’s mouth spread into a grin.

“Good. No backing out, but uh- I gotta go, mom and dad are gonna start asking awkward questions if I don’t reappear or call in, so…”

Bucky blinked, his brown drawing into a confused frown as he looked down at her. “Wait- they don’t know where you are? How’d you even _get_ here?”

Becca shrugged, her eyes sliding away in the patented look of a good Christian girl who’d done something she _knew_ she shouldn’t have and truly _didn’t_ regret it. “Hitched a ride,” She said quickly, opening her mouth to glaze over the statement when Bucky’s voice suddenly flared with disbelief.

“With a _stranger?!”_ Bucky burst, his eyes fixing on Becca in an expression that was something similar to agony. “Holy _shit_ Beccs! God- no- _no- I’m_ driving you home! What the _hell_ were you thinking dummy!?”

“It was fine! It was a lady! I wasn’t gonna-”

“No no no-” Bucky said, pressing a finger to her protesting lips. “Zip it- I’m taking you home and giving you a crash course on not being a total _feather head._ ” Bucky snapped and quickly turned back to Steve. His nerves looked suddenly frayed, but still overall in a good mood by the light that still gleamed in his steel blue eyes. He took Steve’s frail hand in his right, the finger of his left hand still pressed against Becca’s lips as he met Steve’s gaze. “I’m gonna take her home, I’ll be back this evening.”

Steve laughed softly, giving Bucky another tame peck on the lips. “Kay,” He murmured, his gaze flickering over to Becca who -a little less shocked this time- made a gagging noise in the back of her throat, and Steve teasingly wrinkled his nose at her. “Drive safe,” He added, squeezing Bucky’s fingers lightly, and Bucky tugged him into a hug, letting his finger drop away from Becca’s lips as he wrapped Steve tightly in both arms. He drew in a deep breath, soaking in Steve’s warmth the way he did every time they had to say goodbye. And then a little tug of mischief stirred in the pit of Bucky’s stomach, and he turning his mouth in against his ear.

“When I get back…” He whispered, his air warm against Steve’s ear. “We’re gonna pick up where we left off…and I’m gonna make you come so hard you’ll see stars...” He breathed, satisfaction pooling in his stomach as Steve’s chest hitched in an unexpected half-gasp of arousal.

Steve felt a shiver run down his spine, his mind instantly flashing back to Bucky’s hand wrapped around him, and he nodded his head quickly, his face warm. Suddenly he found himself very disappointed that Bucky’s home was so far away from campus, because with just a few words, Bucky already had Steve desperately wishing he could drag Bucky into the nearest remotely private place and get his hands all over him. But Bucky had already pulled away, giving him a last, quick kiss before slinging an arm around Becca’s shoulder, and strolling away, pretending he hadn't just left Steve with an ache in his body, and a dirty image in his mind that he was going to have to wait hours to satisfy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry again for the gaps between updates, but I promise things are going to pick up again after this (Update wise, and story pacing) I just thought there should be a short buffer between main acts. But rest assured things are gonna go from 0-100 real quick ;)  
>   
> Becca


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please head the updated tag warning for this chapter.

Four hours later, Bucky made good on his promise.

He strolled into Steve's room with a broad, easy grin, tugging him into a kiss, and briefly telling him about the drive back, about the teasing, and joking. He told him about Becca blasting her favorite station until the speakers crackled, and about their stop at Wendy's wherein Bucky ended up snorting his milkshake out his nose when Becca fashioned a particularly long French fry into a mustache. Steve couldn't help but smile to hear about him and Becca. Maybe everything wasn't all perfect, and maybe Becca still had a lot to learn, but the most important thing was that she was trying, and that she dearly loved her older brother. And anyone would have to be blind to not see how Bucky adored her.

But it was when Bucky's voice lowered to a purr and his gaze started dragging along Steve's body that he got _truly_ excited.

He had been right. Testing the waters with Bucky hadn't slaked his appetite, it had made it insatiable.

Over the next weeks, Steve was almost embarrassingly eager to try new things, and Bucky was unashamedly enthusiastic to help him learn. They spent long evenings making out on Steve's bed, and Steve learned how to apply how he used to touch himself to Bucky, and how it made the heat in his stomach flare to hear Bucky moan for him. Steve quickly found that Bucky would start babbling if he rubbed his thumb over his slit, and Bucky -in a form of good natured revenge- discovered just how sensitive Steve's nipples were, and how he would buck and squirm whenever he circled over them with the tip of one finger.

This kind of experimenting became an unquestioned part of their evening, as years of pent up sexual tension unwound; slowly, gradually, in a setting of trust where both felt comfortable, and safe. Steve _wanted_ to give himself to Bucky, and in turn, Bucky took that trust and never gave Steve a reason to regret it.

-.-

Steve lay back on his bed, his fingers dragging through his hair as he stared absently up at the ceiling. It was one of those awkward, in between moments when homework was finished, and he'd already had dinner, but it was a little too early to expect Bucky. Had it been any later in the school year, Steve would have had a little more of a routine, he would have had some concept of what to do in these halfway times. But as it was, Steve had nothing better to do than let his mind wander. He let it wander to Bucky, to his wet, red lips, and bright, dark eyes. He let it wander to his slender, piano player fingers, that felt so amazing as they dragged over his body. Steve didn't want their relationship to devolve to something purely physical, but the physical element of their relationship was so new -so _exciting-_ that Steve got a little caught up in it.

In time, the blind rush would ease, but for right now, Steve felt himself burning with eagerness and curiosity; thirsting for more of Bucky's touch. His tongue slid out to wet his lips, his hand sliding down to absently palm at himself over his jeans, eyes fluttering closed as heat washed over his cheeks. He caught his flushed lower lip between his teeth, breathing out softly as the friction soothed the tension that was beginning to coil in his gut. He shouldn't- Bucky wouldn't be long now, but he always knew how to get him off so fast it was embarrassing. It be nice to be able to drag it out a bit.

But suddenly, all of Steve's thoughts of easing the tension before Bucky got here were flung out the window. He abruptly slid his hand away from the hardening bulge in his jeans, his lips pulling into a grin as he heard footfalls in the hallway, and a short knock on the door.

-.-

Thirty minutes after Steve had pulled open his door with a wide, easy smile, Bucky was still at the frat house.

He pawed through the refrigerator, the voices of the other frat members already grating on his ears. He'd been out of his room for only minutes, and he was already ready to either retreat there again immediately, or slip out to see Steve. As it was, the frat house was remarkably quiet. A few young men lounged around watching t.v., one or two even - _god forbid-_ doing _classwork._ Rollins was slumped in one of the chairs, his expression set in a look that warned everyone to keep clear. He looked jealous, and nastier than normal, but his mouth was shut, which was all Bucky could have hoped for. Even when they weren't saying anything offensive -which was _very_ infrequently- Bucky still wanted to escape the sound of their voices. It was all too much for him.

Bucky _desperately_ needed to leave, but he kept running into the same issue. To leave, he needed to terminate his status with Brock, and that would raise questions, questions that would inevitably lead back to Steve. As hard as Bucky had tried to hide it, STRIKE knew that they saw each other frequently; they made a point about ribbing Bucky about it, asking why he hadn’t fucked Steve yet if they were so _‘close.’_ Bucky didn’t want to give Steve any more shit than he already had to deal with from those assholes. They already came at him left and right; flirting, hitting on him, downright offering to take him to bed. Bucky hated it, and knowing he and Steve were together would only make things worse for him. He wouldn’t just be some anonymous twink, he would be Jamie’s twink boyfriend, and seeing if they could still get him to open up for one of them seemed just like STRIKE’s sick idea of fun.

So Bucky kept his mouth shut. He bit his tongue, and bided his time, cause he was _gonna_ get out. He _had_ to, he just needed a little more time to think, but until then, his time with Steve would have to hold him over. That, at least, was something to ease the tension. In a few minutes, he would get out of this hellhole. He could feel the sleek plastic of the extra keycard Steve had smuggled him in his pocket, and he could almost _hear_ Steve’s greeting in his mind; warm, and genuine, and a little bit shy. During they day, Steve was open, and teasing; ribbing Bucky and trading goodnatured insults, but evening brought a different side of him, a side that was equal parts eager, and tentative. It was a part of Steve that was shy, and soft, and trusting, and Bucky cherished both aspects of him with equal reverence. He loved his spitfire Steve, and he loved his blushing virgin Steve. He loved shoving Steve’s shoulder and calling him a punk, and he loved kissing his blushing cheeks, and murmuring in whispered tones that his eyes were prettier than the sky, and his skin felt like silk under his lips. Bucky loved everything about him. He was drawn to him like a magnet, and the further apart they were, the more Bucky ached for him.

It was about time to go, and Bucky straightened. The fridge closed with a _pop,_ and Bucky nearly leapt out of his skin.

Jeremiah stood against the counter immediately beside him, poking at his phone with the air of someone pretending to have nothing to say, but his proximity told a different story. Jeremiah thrive on attention, and he’d rather conveniently place himself so someone opened the conversation with _him,_ than open one himself. Bucky hissed between his teeth, his frayed nerves crackling with tension. _“Fuck…”_ He murmured, heavily setting down the can of pepsi he’d pulled from the fridge. _“What?”_

Jeremiah lifted his eyes, having the audacity to act innocently surprised, his lips parting just a hair. “Hm?” He hummed, blinking once, his phone chirping in his hand. For just a second, his attention wavered, his eyes momentarily dropping to the device before he thought better of his distraction and seemed to ‘remember’ what had pulled him into Bucky’s orbit. “Oh nothing, just...curious is all.”

Bucky bristled, cracking the soda can with misdirected venom, really wishing he could turn the slow burn of anger that had built into a rage out on any one of these bastards. “Spit it out Pierce, I don’t have time for you.” He growled, too tense to take even a sip of the drink he’d opened.

“You don’t have to be a dick,” Pierce said with a scoff, abrasively defensive; as though he, like the others, didn’t feed of off the strife and brutality that was the life-blood of the frat. But still, one black look from Bucky was enough to spur him on. “Whatever.” He muttered shortly, “Just call me curious.” Pierce paused slightly, as though waiting for Bucky to prompt him, but he was just met with that even, bitter gaze, so he pressed on uninvited. “Curious, ‘cause _I’ve_ got good reasons to not be taking advantage of this bet -I’m not a queer like you, and I’m kinda furnishing the prize- but _you_ don’t have an excuse, and you’re _still_ not fucking the kid even though he’s attached to your hip all the time.”

Bucky thought his teeth would crack from how hard they were gritted, but Pierce had the nerve to sound so open and reasonable, he couldn’t blow up at him. “Drop it.” He warned in a low snarl, the soda can crinkling in his hand.

“Unless you _have,_ and you're not telling for some reason." He added, his eyebrows lifting in a show of mild bewilderment. "Although why you wouldn't beats me. You seem a little too interested in that bike to pass up the opportunity if it's hanging on your arm all the time."

"I said _drop it."_ Bucky warned tightly, Pierce pocketing his phone absently, his casual attitude of superiority grating on Bucky's nerves.

"All I'm saying is you _could_ have this thing in the bag. I mean, if you spend so much time together, it couldn’t be too hard to trick him into fucking you.”

Bucky whipped around, his face contorting with anger as he wrenched Jeremiah forward by the collar of his shirt, the expensive fabric wrinkling in the clutch of his right hand. “One more word and I swear to god I’ll shove this can down your esophagus.” He snarled, his prosthetic fingers tightening around the soda can, and Jeremiah balked, drawing his head back. His eyes widened at the sudden ferocity, mouth dropping open, before realization flickered in the back of his mind, suddenly brightening the dull glaze of ignorance over his eyes.

“Whoa whoa- hang on-” He said, holding up his hands, before his brow drew into a knot of disbelief. “This- this isn’t a tactic _is it?”_ Pierce asked, Bucky’s face heating with anger and anxiety, and Pierce gave a short scoff. “It’s _not!_ Oh my god, you _like_ him!”

“Say that a little louder, I dare you-” Bucky hissed, trying not to let Pierce see the panic that was turning the edges of his vision black. If Pierce knew, _everyone_ would know. This would all go to shit, and Bucky had no idea how to stop it, because Pierce’s eyes were getting brighter, and more malicious by the second. Everyone was gonna know- _Everyone-_

Before Jeremiah could say another word- before Bucky could decide how he was going to keep him quiet, the door to the frat house swung open, hitting the wall beside it with a careless _crack,_ and Brock strolled in, a wide grin twisting across his canine features.

“You’re all _losers.”_ He drawled with a smirk, hands in his pockets, dark eyes bright with sick delight.

“Yeah? Tell them something they don’t know.” Jack muttered from the couch, most of the frat still unaware of the spat that had been interrupted in the kitchen. Even Jeremiah and Bucky had stopped dead at Brock’s entrance, Bucky’s hand still curled into the collar of his shirt, Jeremiah’s head pulled back from the bared teeth a little too close to his face for comfort.

Brock’s tongue slid out to wet his lips, his eyebrows quirking up as he lifted his chin, pacing the room like the king of the world. “We’ll, you’re all losers in general, but right now specifically. _You all lose.”_ He hissed with a smirked, and Bucky felt his hand slip from Jeremiah’s collar. Brock’s grin spread. “Bet’s over. _I win.”_

As a collective groan and shout of protest rose from the other frat members, Bucky felt a hot, perverse twist of relief flood the pit of his stomach, and he couldn’t help the shaky smile that curled at his mouth. _Brock was lying._ But if everyone else believed it, then Bucky wasn’t going to correct them. If they thought Brock had won, they’d leave Steve alone. Only Bucky had to know that it wasn’t true. Only Bucky had to know that Steve would never give in to Rumlow, no matter how insistent he’d been. Steve would never. Bucky would have preferred that they never saw Steve as someone to be conquered, but at this point, he was just tired. Tired of the whole thing, and tired of seeing Steve hunted for sport. So at this point, they could believe whatever they wanted, so long as it was over.  

And suddenly, Bucky felt Brock’s hot breath on his face, his grinning teeth flashing in front of his eyes.

“You look awfully content for someone who wanted to win that bike so bad.” Brock smirked, wetting his mouth with a teasing slide of his tongue, his eyes glinting darkly. “Wanna let me in on your little inside joke?”

“It’s nothing.” Bucky said; even, yet cold, as he easily turned his back to Brock, pitching the barely touched soda can in the garbage. “Congratulations.” His words were flat, trying to betray as little of his conflicting emotion as possible. It was his anger that had given him up to Jeremiah, and if he wasn’t careful, it would be relief that gave him up to Brock. But Brock wasn’t quite ready to let him slip away just yet.

“Hang on-” He snapped, grabbing Bucky’s left arm, the force jarring his prosthetic uncomfortably against his stump, and Bucky hissed in irritation, whipping back around towards him. But Brock was still smirking. “You don’t believe me _do you?”_ He accused in a silky tone, before his eyes darkened, and his gaze cast viciously around the room. “And the rest of you bastards?” Rumlow demanded, and was met with a few downturned eyes, and one or two outright scoffs. It seemed to be just what Brock wanted to hear, before the venom in his gaze turned hot, and his mouth curled back into the vicious smirk. He released Bucky’s arm roughly, turning to slowly pace the length of the room, his eyes searing over every figure present. “You’d _better_ believe me.” He smirked, his hand sliding into his pocket. “Cause where all of you hit a wall, I used the loophole. The rules said whoever fucked the new kid first won... _you all just assumed he had to have any say in the matter.”_

Bucky’s heart stopped.

The sounds in the room were suddenly drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears, his vision turning dark at the edges. His throat constricted into a knot. _God no- please no-_ Brock was still grinning. People were laughing. Bucky was going to be sick.

_It’s all a lie._

_God- please let it all be a lie-_

_Please- anything but this-_

Bucky’s heart was pounding in his skull, his ears dimly registering the chatter as someone called bullshit, shouting the challenge to their leader. But Brock’s grin just spread, and he reached into his pocket, suddenly tugging out a wadded up piece of fabric, and flinging it at the doubter. Bucky’s eyes registered the color- the pattern- before it had even been unfolded. White stars on a blue field. Red and white stripes running along the width.

_Steve’s briefs._

“I figured one of you assholes was gonna ask for proof, so I kept a little _trophy_ for myself.” Brock grinned, strolling over and snatching the material back up, twirling the fabric easily; flaunting them like a banner- the evidence of his conquest. “But _flag briefs?_ ” A nasty laugh escaped his lips, his tongue running over them to wet his mouth. “I swear, you couldn’t make this shit up.”

Bucky _lost it_.

He lunged across the room, ripping the briefs from Brock’s hand and ignoring his snap of warning as he shoved into his space. “Where is he?” Bucky snarled, yanking Rumlow by the collar, teeth bared, pupil’s constricted to pin-pricks. A second’s silence was too long, and he wrenched him closer, panic and rage turning his thoughts to madness. “I said _where is he!”_

Brock pulled his head back, surprised, but not threatened. Jamie was fun to have around, he was like an aggressive dog; fun to yank around if you could avoid getting bit. A nasty laugh escaped his grinning mouth. _“Relax_ Jamie,” He smirked, “Give it up. You’re too late. Your slow-burn tactic didn’t pay off, and gettin’ into him _now_ won’t change the fact that _I already have.”_ His words slowed at the end, dripping with poison, punctuated by the ugly glittering in his cold, dark eyes, and Bucky’s stomach turned to lead. “ _I win._ The little bitch opens his mouth real pretty if you yank hard enough on that nice soft hair of his-”

Bucky’s fist hit Brock without warning. It wasn’t a clean shot to the jaw. It was vicious- _dirty-_ Straight to the mouth, breaking teeth and splitting gums in a single, brutal shot that sent Rumlow crashing to the ground before anyone around them could register what had happened.

He was on him before the other frat members could react. His vision had constricted to a blurry pinprick, his teeth clench so hard they could have cracked, but Bucky didn’t care. He wanted to kill him- wanted to kill him for _daring_ to lay a finger on Steve- for hurting him- for taking the careful trust Bucky had so carefully fostered over the past two months and shattering it in one vicious blow. He could feel himself hitting him. He could feel his fists hitting flesh and bone- feel the force of his blows fucking up his prosthetic, but he didn’t care.

He was screaming.

Bucky could hardly hear himself through the pounding in his head, his mouth forming words that he couldn’t process as he beat every inch of Brock he could reach, an unbidden sob stripping his throat raw. Brock was grabbing at him, but he’d only manage to get a hold of one fist before the other would crack against his nose, or mouth, or cheekbone, and his grip would falter, and Bucky would haul back to hit him again. A part of Bucky knew he had to stop- that he really _would_ kill Brock eventually if he didn’t. But he couldn’t. As it was, it was almost more than he could handle to not grab Rumlow’s head and bash it into the hardwood floor. He could restrain himself from splitting his skull like a melon- but he couldn’t stop hitting him. He couldn’t-

Suddenly, more hands than he could keep track of grabbed him, dragging him backwards as an animalistic scream of rage ripped from his throat, his nails curling, raking at the frat’s leader’s face as he was dragged away. His nails caught, dragging white lines across his skin but not breaking the flesh, and Bucky lurched against the hands restraining him- the arms that had snaked around his neck and torso as he thrashed against them.

 _“GET OFF ME!”_ He screamed, wrenching so hard the straps of his prosthetic strained. A hand grabbed his hair and Bucky’s foot slammed down along the inside of someone’s shin, scraping the flesh raw, and a howl of pain met his ears.

Rumlow shifted on the ground, rolling over onto his side with a strangled gasp, before a gagging sound escaped his throat and he coughed up a mouthful of saliva and blood; the slick white of a chunk of enamel catching Bucky’s eye in the thick glob of bloody spit. He’d knocked the bastard’s tooth out. _Good._  He staggered to his feet, and Bucky could see the damage he’d done in his haze of rage. His right cheekbone was flushed and swollen, eyes blacked, lips split and blood dripping from his gums. Just seeing him on his feet was enough to make Bucky regret not breaking his head open when he hand the chance.

He lurched against the arms holding him, jaw locked, eyes black with rage. “ _Where is he?_ ” He demanded, voice thrumming with hatred. “Where’d you leave him- _where is he!-”_

Brock whipped a vicious backhand, and even though his aim was off, it still glanced painfully off Bucky’s jaw. But it only made him angrier. _“TELL ME WHERE HE IS!”_ He screamed, the hand in his hair yanking his head back with enough force to make him bark out a cry of pain.

A ragged breath escaped Rumlow, blood running down his chin, his eyes not quite focusing on Bucky’s thrashing figure. “Left the- little bitch in his room-” He panted, dragging a heavy hand over his mouth and hissing in pain. “He let me right in- musta thought I was you...then again, you obviously hadn’t talked him into letting you fuck him yet, but I’ll tell you what Jamie-” He laughed, the sound thick, and ugly. “After he get’s over being so possessive over that scrawny little body- he’s gonna be _begging_ for more of my cock. And maybe I’ll keep him around. Make him my bitch.”

If Bucky had snapped before, it was _nothing_ in the face of the demon of pure hatred that inhabited him now. He lunged against the restraining arms, a raw, unintelligible scream ripping from his throat as one hand wrenched free, clawing at Brock, his nails raking at air as his mind lusted over images of gouging his eyes from his skull. He thrashed and twisted like a man possessed, feeling something give as he ripped himself free.

But the second his body wrenched clear of the hands that snatched at his limbs and clothes he didn’t even care that the object of his fury was inches away. He didn’t care that Brock was so disoriented from the first vicious beating that he could choke the breath from his lungs with little struggle. All that mattered was that Steve was out there- That he was hurt, and that he needed him. And between caring for Steve, and making Brock pay, Bucky would pick Steve every time.

Bucky tore past Rumlow, his shoulder hitting him hard enough on the way past to send him reeling, and Bucky crashed through the door. His bare feet slapped the concrete. His head was spinning. He felt sick, and unbalance. He felt incomplete, like a piece of him had been ripped out, and all he kept seeing was _Steve._ Steve, sobbing in his room- Steve, scared, and hurt- shaking, _bleeding-_ Steve, violated at his deepest level, and then thrown away like so much garbage- _abandoned- alone._

The cold autumn air burned his throat and his lungs, leaving Bucky gasping- leaving him wondering if this was what Steve’s asthma attacks felt like. But he pushed himself faster, even when his legs were shaking his his lungs refused to draw air. The sun was already long gone, and Bucky bolted through the darkness at a staggering run, his shadow chattering across the pavement as he sprinted through the yellow halos of streetlamps. He didn’t care when the biting wind ripped through his thin t-shirt. He didn’t notice when pavement turned to sidewalk under his feet, and when the shadow of Steve’s dorm loomed above him. He couldn’t think- he couldn’t breath- he needed to get to Steve.

He glanced roughly off the doorframe as he staggered inside, every step seeming to drag him to the right, and Bucky dimly registered when he felt so unbalanced. In the struggle to free himself from STRIKE, the straps holding his prosthetic in place had slipped free. His left arm ended in a rounded stump just below his shoulder, the lack of balancing weight making him lopsided, and clumsy. But the give of his left arm slipping off had been what Bucky had needed to break free. They had his bike- they had his arm- but he could get to Steve. They couldn’t take Steve. _He had to get to him._

The dormitory was a maze, and Bucky tore through the halls he usually strolled, his unbalanced frame hitting walls, and doorways, his footfalls shuddering the stairs. Finally, he whipped around a corner and staggered to a stop in front of Steve’s door.

_Oh god-_

_He could hear him._

He could hear crying on the other side of the door, Steve’s breath hitching in raw, gasping sobs that wheezed in and out of his weak lungs. That wheeze scared him- it sounded tight- sounded constricted, and Bucky’s panic spiked.

 _“Steve-”_ He broke out, his hands shaking as he pulled the keycard from his pocket. “I-It’s okay- It’s okay doll- I’m here, I’m here- I’m coming for you-” He babbled helplessly, tears spilling down his wind chilled cheek as his trembling hand dragged the keycard through the slot _again,_ and _again,_ the little light blinking each time.

_Red_

_Red_

_Red_

Bucky nearly screamed, the card jittering in his shaking hand, breaking the magnetic contact. He had to get in- he had to-

_Green_

Bucky burst through the door and felt his entire body turn to stone.

Steve lay, curled in on himself, on the floor of his dorm, his mostly naked body trembling violently. His hair was a mess, his lips red, and swollen, and the sleek shape of his inhaler was curled into the tightly clutched knot of his fingers. He was wearing little more than his socks, his shirt rucked up under his armpits, and he curled tighter in on himself, that raw, wheezing sob dragging from his constricted lungs. He looked terrified. He looked hurt, and broken, and Bucky felt his heart shatter in his chest.

_“Steve!”_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay- Okay- I promise the next chapter is gonna be up soon! Hang in there! D:


	9. Chapter 9

Steve heard his door opening- heard a voice yelling his name and the heavy thud of knees striking the hard floor just beside him. He felt his skin crawl, his stomach lurching inside him as a hot, shaky hand pressed against his shoulder, _touching_ him- _(god- someone was touching him.)_

His head was pounding.

His vision wouldn’t clear.

_He couldn’t breath._

Something pressing against his lips and Steve balked, jerking his head back in a blind, sick panic, a strangled noise ripping from his throat. His throat burned- his lips were bruised, and tender- _(“Stop it! Get that the fuck away from my mouth- No!”)_

He couldn’t breath.

Suddenly, the shattered fragments of Steve’s thoughts pieced together for just a moment, just long enough for his clouded, panicked mind to register a smooth plastic nozzle against his lips, and a familiar, beautiful voice that was cracked with desperation and terror.

“Just breath in- just breath Steve- _god-_ please- you gotta breath-”

_Oh-_ His inhaler.

Somehow his rescuer had managed to pry his inhaler from his frozen fingers and was holding it to his lips, begging him to breath. And for a terrifying moment, Steve didn’t think he was going to be able. But after a choking, wheezing whimper that sounded feeble, and broken even to his own ears, Steve let the nozzle of his inhaler slip between his swollen lips and choked in one tiny breath.

_It was enough._ The one puff of medicine loosened his lungs just enough to take a second, deeper drag, and Steve felt oxygen rush around his deprived body, clearing his head, and chasing out the dead numbness that had begun to creep through his limbs. His bone thin fingers came up, clutching at the shaking hand that held his medicine to his lips in a white knuckled grip, his air escaping him in a raw, ragged exhale. And as the oxygen filtered through his blood, Steve heard a dry sob of relief, and the last piece clicked into place.

_Bucky._

Bucky was here- he was here...he was gonna be okay..

Steve’s lungs expanded in a rattling gasp and tore free in a sob, and his strength gave out. Until that moment, he’d been holding his broken pieces together on his own. But Bucky was here now, and he didn’t have to. He didn’t have to drag himself through this alone- not when Bucky would carry him. In a single movement that took everything he had left, Steve lifted his shaking shoulders from the hard floor and slumped over Bucky’s thighs, his face pressed in against his lap, thin, shaking arms clutching tightly around his waist.

The drop of Steve’s weight into his lap startled Bucky, his heart lurching in his chest as Steve clung to him and Bucky felt a rush of twisted relief. He shouldn't- he shouldn’t be relieved, not right now- not when Steve was laying, all but naked in his lap, _sobbing._ He should feel terrified, and hurt, and angry, but the only thought that could touch his mind was that Steve was breathing. He was breathing, and he wasn’t afraid of him. Steve wanted his touch, even after what had happened mere minutes ago. His knees ached from the shock of throwing himself down on the hard floor beside Steve’s curled figure. The muscles in his calves and thighs twitched and burned from bolting across campus. But he was here. He was here, _and Steve was still breathing._

Bucky doubled over, his one good arm curling around Steve’s shaking body as he gathered him close, a sob ripping his throat raw as he pressed into the crook of his neck, Steve’s arms wrapping tightly around his chest. He clung to him, rocking slightly as he cradled Steve in his arms, the younger boy’s tears wetting the collar of his shirt.

“Bucky-” Steve’s voice was thick, and raw, and it hitched with a violent sob as his fingers twisted into the back of his shirt, his face pressing deeper into his chest. The hug felt lopsided- incomplete- and Steve couldn’t place why, but at the moment, he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he was mostly naked. He didn’t care that his stomach kept threatening to empty it’s contents onto the floor. He just needed Bucky to hold him. His arms felt like jello, the shock, and fear having turned his body weak, and numb. But Bucky knew. Bucky knew what he needed.

He pressed deeper, cradling Steve close, and nuzzling into his hair. His fingers tightened over his shoulder, Bucky's body shaking as he tried to whisper soft comforts between the aching sobs that shook his chest, but urgency suddenly flooded Bucky’s veins with heat.

“Stevie- Stevie- listen, okay?” Bucky broke out, his voice cracking as tears spilled down his wind-chapped cheeks. “Do you need to go the the hospital? Just yes or no- just one word, doll. Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No-”

The single word was small, and rasped, and Bucky’s heart tightened with pain as Steve’s tears wet the collar of his shirt; warm against his cold skin. He pressed an aching kiss against his golden hair, his arm beginning to ache as he cradled him close. “Okay…” Bucky whispered, licking his lips feverishly, trying not to focus on how badly he was panicking. He didn’t know what to do- Steve wasn’t in any kind of place to relay details and Bucky didn’t know what to do for him. He wanted to believe Steve that he didn’t need a hospital, but he was scared- he was scared of the damage Brock may of done- scared of losing the fleeting window they might have to get hard DNA evidence- but most of all, he was scared of pushing Steve. He’d already been forced too much.

_He didn’t know what to do_

_He couldn’t fix this_

_He couldn’t make it all go away._

But he could care for Steve.

Moving carefully so as not to startle him, Bucky shifted his arm lower around Steve’s waist, tightening it firmly as the intent behind the touch shifted. He wanted to get Steve off the floor. His tiny body was freezing, and he wanted to get him up on the bed where he’d be warm, and comfortable, but he’d seen Steve’s reaction when he’d tried to push the nozzle of the inhaler between his lips. He’d seen how scared he’d been, and Bucky didn’t ever want to see Steve like that on account of him ever again. He didn’t want him to be afraid when Bucky moved him to his bed.

“Hey-” He whispered shakily, still barely managing to hold back raw, choking sobs, his heart breaking for the trembling boy in his arms. “Hey...I’m gonna move you up onto the bed, okay? Okay, baby? I’m gonna take care of you, I promise...not gonna hurt you…” His breath hitched in his lungs, Steve craning closer as Bucky tucked his face deeper into his neck, Steve’s skin freezing cold against his warm lips. “ _Not gonna hurt you_...that’s it...let me take care of you…” Steve was present. He knew where he was, and who he was with, and Bucky hoped with everything in him that Steve believed him. He’d never be able to forgive himself if he made Steve afraid of him with one misplaced hand or word.

“Come on…” Bucky whispered against his hair, his arm tightening around his waist, supporting Steve as he started to shift forward, Steve drawing in a sharp little breath of surprise, but he didn’t balk and shove away. He curled closer, his bare thighs clenching around Bucky’s waist, clinging to Bucky as he lifted him. But Bucky handled him with care. He supported his weight with his one good arm, keeping him tucked close against his chest before gently taking him down to the bed, easing his body down onto the mattress. Steve’s arms pulled him down, but Bucky planted his knee on the edge of the bed, not letting his weight bare down on Steve, not letting anything happen that might result in Steve feeling trapped or pinned down.

It took a moment for Steve to relinquish him, a raw noise escaping his throat as tears wet his reddened cheeks, and Bucky made a soft sound in the back of his throat. “It’s okay-” He said in a choked whisper. “It’s okay. I’m still here. I’ve got you, okay? Let me help. _..let me help you_ …” Slowly, Bucky disentangled Steve’s fingers from his shirt front, and the moment he’d lost the anchor, Steve curled back in on himself, his eyes squeezing closed, his bare shoulders hunching as he drew his knees up to his chest. _God_ he hated seeing him like this. It ground the shattered remains of his heart into his organs, shredding them raw, and sending another fresh wave of tears spilling down his cheeks. He _hated_ it- he hated it so fucking much- _He just wanted him to be okay…_

Easing in, Bucky drew Steve’s soft cotton sheet over his body, gently tucking it around him, granting him the privacy and dignity that Brock had stripped him of, and Steve’s hands curled into the sheet with a shuddering sigh. Bucky wanted to get aspirin- a warm washcloth- water- _something_ to help Steve, but the thought of walking away from him even for an instant was more than Bucky could bear. So he took -perhaps- the selfish option, and carefully eased down beside him.

“I’m right here, okay, Steve?” He breathed huskily, more so he didn’t startle him than anything. “I’m right here...I promise I won’t hurt you...I promise...I promise…” The words slipped from his lips like a prayer as his one good hand slowly eased close and brushed over his sweaty blond locks, his figure shifting in to close the space between them; Steve’s forehead against his collar, Bucky’s knees framing Steve’s calves. The younger boy’s body trembling in a raw shiver, and Bucky felt his stomach swoop with uncertainty, and fear. He wet his lips, heart in his throat, his hand stilling on Steve’s hair. “I’m sorry...is this okay? I can stop.” Bucky had only just begun to pull his hand away when Steve suddenly arched closer, a sound that embodied panic and fear ripping from his lungs.

_"No-"_ he broke out abruptly, pressing himself against Bucky, the sheet tangled around his near naked body. And abruptly, Steve's tone lost it's edge, his voice dropping a way to the pleading whisper of a desperate man. "No- please don't...don't...."

Bucky felt the tension coil out of his body, leaving hot, heavy relief in it's wake. It was the first time Steve had managed more than a singular, broken syllable, and Bucky would take any progress he could get. He moved back in, his fingers threading softly through Steve’s hair as he pressed a fierce kiss to his forehead. He wanted so badly to kiss those soft, swollen lips until he couldn’t breath, but Steve was raw, and scared, so Bucky satisfied himself with only the warm, desperate kiss against his forehead. It _had_ to be enough. Steve just had to know that he was right here with him.

Move cautiously, Bucky eased closer, Steve’s ragged, desperate words soothing the fear that his touch would be seen as a threat. His fingers scratched softly over Steve’s scalp, his legs tangling with Steve’s at the ankles, and to Bucky’s relief, Steve pressed deeper. His slender arms tightened all the way around Bucky’s chest, and he plastered his tiny, shivering frame as close up against him as he could manage, until the only thing separating them was Bucky’s clothing, and the sheet that wrapped around Steve’s body.

They lay there for a long time, clinging to each other as Steve’s sobs painfully purged the hurt from his soul- like boiling water sanitizing a wound- and Bucky let his own grief and guilt bleed from him in hot, broken tears. Slowly though, Steve’s raw sobs softened into hitching gasps, and whimpers, and his death grip on the back of Bucky’s shirt loosened. His tears slowed, and the trembling that wracked his body eased to a tiny quiver deep in his bones.

_“Buck?”_

Bucky felt his breath hitch at the sound of Steve’s voice, his own throat in a knot from crying, his ears ringing from the silence. His voice sounded so small… He let out the breath in a raw, shaky huff, his heart rate picking up. Bucky couldn’t help it. He was afraid of what he was going to hear. “Yeah Steve?” He whispered, scared to death that Steve might ask him to fix this- to make it go away. He was scared to death of hearing what had happened. But more than that, Bucky was scared that he wouldn’t be able to help him, that no matter what he did, it would never be enough. And the worst part about it, was that Bucky knew it was true.

Steve was quiet for a second, his face nestled in against his chest, listening to the quickening thump of Bucky’s heart; feeling the heat of the blood rushing just under his skin. He shifted just slightly, one arm easing from around his back to brush over the stump of Bucky’s left arm. In the panic- through the haze of hurt, and fear, Steve hadn't been able to place why Bucky’s hug had feel so unbalanced- so _wrong._ But after he cried until it felt like he had nothing left inside him, his mind had clears, and he’d placed the sensation. The touch had only ever been one hand at a time, even the hugs. On a good day Bucky would wrap him up in that perfect, warm hug, and it had seemed so wrong- so _distressing-_ to not feel that on what seemed like the blackest day of Steve’s life.

“Where’s your arm?”

Had Bucky’s heart not been shattering into a million, bleeding shard in his ribcage, he might have been able to laugh. As it was, the only thing that escaped him was a strangled choke, and a fresh stream of tears down his raw cheeks. He reached down, smoothing his one good hand over Steve’s hair, his heart bleeding. Steve shouldn’t be worrying about him. The first real exchange they managed shouldn’t be about _him._ It should be able _Steve,_ about taking care of him- about somehow fixing this whole, sick mess. But his Steve... _god_...his beautiful, selfless Steve was worried about _him._ “Forget about my arm, Stevie…” He rasped, his voice coming out thick, and gravelly, his throat tightening. But Steve’s shakey touch against the stump of his left arm grew firm.

“Where is it?” He pressed again, this time lifting his face, and for the first time, Bucky could truly drink in the soft lines of his gorgeous features. His eyes were wet- red, and blotchy- and his mouth looked sore, and tender. His sunken cheeks were a vivid pink, but he was still the prettiest thing Bucky had ever seen, and his persistence coaxed an aching smile to his lips.

“It slipped off…” He said in a hushed tone, his voice dropping down to a whisper as he kissed Steve’s forehead again, his right hand caressing his wet cheeks. He decided that for the moment, a simplified version of the truth would do. He didn’t need to burden Steve with detail. “I had to get to you, but someone grabbed me and...it pulled off. But it doesn’t matter.” He said, his voice strengthening with a gentle reprimand. “It’s not important. _You_ are. I needed to get to you more than I’ve _ever_ needed that arm…”  

Steve’s expression twisted with discomfort, his lips pressing into a tight line, moisture still shimmering in his eyes, and leaking down from the corners, although the rapid streams had finally ceased. He looked agitated, and sick, and uncomfortable, and Bucky felt his fingers dragging aimlessly over his stump. “They’ve got your arm too?” He whispered horsely, sniffing as wet mucus dripped down his upper lip, the ragged ugly sobs having made a mess of him.

Bucky’s hand slid to the back of Steve’s neck and he gave it a soft, correctional squeeze, his chest constricting with hurt. “Yeah. So what?” He rasped, the sharpness in his tone betraying only hurt for Steve’s sake. He didn’t care. _He didn’t care._ But Steve cared about what Bucky couldn’t, and the attention raked at Bucky’s guilt-ridden heart. _“Forget_ my arm.” He pressed again, his forehead nestling against his, his hand heavy, and comforting on the back of his neck. “It’s not important, okay? It doesn’t matter-”

“It _does!”_ Steve protested, the discomfort on his face suddenly flaring into something like anger. “It _does_ matter, Buck! Those bastards have taken too much from you- I’m not just gonna-”

_“You’re gonna forget about me is what you’re gonna do.”_ Bucky snapped, his expression twisting with anguish. “That’s stuffs not important! The arm- the bike- _I don’t care!_ I don’t care about them anymore- it’s just _you!”_

Steve faltered, his eyes dropping away as fresh tears slipped down his cheeks. Steve wasn’t angry at Bucky, and Bucky wasn’t angry at Steve. They were just hurt, and the sudden pitch in tension was directed and STRIKE, not each other, but none the less, Bucky felt the guilt that ate away at his heart suddenly surge into his throat.   _God-_ how had he ever gotten so lucky to have someone like Steve? Someone who worried about him, even when he was the one who needed caring for... _how had he ever been careless enough to let this happen to him?_

Bucky felt his breath abruptly crush out of his lungs in a choking gasp, his hand moving to cradle Steve’s head close again, his face contorting with misery as an ugly sob tore from his chest. _“God-”_ Bucky choked, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks as he clutched Steve close, his breath ruffling through his sweaty bangs. “God Steve- I’m _so fucking sorry-_ I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to snap- I- I- Oh god...this is all my fault- it’s a- it’s-”

“Bucky-” Steve whispered in protest, his voice soft, and raspy, it sounded raw, and the thought of how it must of gotten that way wrenched another sob from his lips. _“Bucky-”_ Steve murmured again, but his tone was more insistent now, and his bloodshot eyes lifted to Bucky’s face, his slender hands moving up to cradle his jaw. “Look’t me, it's  _not_ your fault, okay?” He pressed, “You didn’t come after me. You didn’t- You didn’t try to rape me.”

Bucky felt something like shock pound into his chest, and his wet eyes snapped up to Steve, his hand tightening on the back of his neck. _“Try?”_ It sounded too optimistic for Bucky to believe. He’d seen the way Brock had left him- He’d heard the way Brock had talked- _but if there was even the smallest chance…_

Steve managed a tight, humorless smile, his eyes still wet, and bleak, but he returned Bucky’s desperate little squeeze to the back of his neck. “Yeah…” He said in a hushed tone. _“Try…”_

He let out a raw breath, blinking rapidly as relief spilled down through the shards of his heart. “So- so he didn’t- He-”

“No...Just my mouth…”

A part of the hot relief turned cold in Bucky’s chest, although some remained, and in a way, Bucky hated it. He shouldn’t put violation on levels. He shouldn’t be glad that it ‘ _wasn’t worse._ ’ But he _was._ He _was_ glad it wasn’t worse, that even though Steve had been violated, that Brock hadn’t ripped everything away from him- that he hadn’t assaulted him in any more damaging- more intimate way. He was glad...He was glad, and a part of him could only believe that Steve wouldn’t blame him. Slowly, Bucky’s hand moved back from his neck to his cheek, cradling his face softly, and Steve craned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Bucky stroked over his soft, blotchy skin as the love his his life indulged in the gentle touch that was so vastly different that the rough, forceful grip he’d been subjected to less than an hour ago. His hand stroked over his cheek, his fingers trailing over his temples before moving to tenderly trace Steve’s swollen lips, the smaller boy’s expression suddenly tightening with hurt, his hand slipping up to grip Bucky’s wrist. Bucky didn’t want to kiss Steve for fear of making him scared, or uncomfortable. Steve didn’t want Bucky to kiss him for fear that Bucky would be able to taste Brock on his lips. It was stupid- he knew. Steve counted himself lucky that Brock hadn’t come in his mouth, but he could still taste his skin on his lips and tongue, and Steve was afraid that Bucky would be able to as well- that it would disgust him. Steve felt like he was somehow dirtying Bucky just by letting him tenderly rub his thumb over his lower lip, and it made his stomach twist with misplaced guilt.

“Bucky…” He whispered reluctantly, torn between the comfort, and the guilt the touch brought. “Please-”

Bucky faltered, his hand stilling, his thumb still resting against the flushed swell of his lips, and hurt twisted in the pit of his stomach as Steve turned his face into the mattress, tears clumping his lashes together and sticking them to his damp cheeks.

_“Dont…”_

Bucky swallowed the knot in his throat, his hand easing away, uncertainty and guilt raging inside his head.  “I’m sorry…” Bucky whispered hoarsely, licking his lips, his hand settling back on the side of Steve’s neck where he knew it was safe. “Does it- does it hurt?”

For a second, Steve looked conflicted, buffering as discomfort flickered through his eyes, his fingers twisting unconsciously into Bucky’s shirt. “t’s tender…” He started haltingly, his lashes lowering to brush his cheekbones, his chin tipping to his chest as he tried to escape Bucky’s gaze. “It’s- I just don’t want you to touch is all-” The words were defensive, but his tone was meek, his voice lacking conviction, and bite. He just looked hurt. “I...I don’t want you to have to touch...or kiss where he’s been…”

The bleak resignation in Steve’s tone broke Bucky’s heart.

“Steve-” Bucky managed, feeling like the air had been sucked from his lungs, the single syllable falling from his lips in a breathless croak. He felt like he was going to break apart. And suddenly, Bucky surged forward, pressing close as his forehead brushing his, his hold on Steve’s neck tightening as he clung to him, feeling like his chest was going to break open. How had he let his happen. “Steve-” He choked again, pressing his lips to Steve’s cheeks and temples in wet, uncoordinated kisses that tugged little, conflicted gasps from Steve’s lungs. Bucky could care less about _where he'd been._ It was Steve, and no amount of trauma would make him worth any less than the very best Bucky had to offer. That and more...but Bucky didn't kiss Steve on the mouth, not for himself, but because Steve had asked him not to. But it didn't stop Bucky from kissing his fore-head, and chin, and cheeks, and laving his flushed, delicate skin with as much tender affection as he could, even while his own face was wet with tears. “Steve-" Bucky choked, his words thick, and strangled. "I’m sorry...I’m so sorry Steve...this never should have happened…I shoulda been here...I- I should have been here- I-” Anger abruptly bubbled up in Bucky’s chest, his teeth clenching as he clung to Steve, his blood going hot- his head rushing with deafening anger and hurt. _“Christ-”_ He gritted out” “I should’a been here but- why didn’t anyone help you?”

Steve could feel Bucky’s helpless rage, and he swallowed hard, tears suddenly wetting his lashes again, as the violent, nightmarish memories resurfaced in his mind. But Steve couldn’t let Bucky’s anger turn on anyone other than Brock. _He’d_ done this. No one else. No one else could have done anything more… “I tried to call for help…” Steve rasped softly, his throat tightening; Bucky’s tense muscles easing as he listened to him. “But...he had my mouth pried open to- to keep me from biting him. I couldn’t make a lot of noise once he-” Steve’s voice cut off sharply, the memories rearing too viciously for him to continue, and he abruptly jumped track. _“No one could hear me.”_ He managed shortly, his eyes squeezing closed. “I- I’d let him in...thought he was you, so...no one knew anything was wrong... _no one could hear me…”_

He could still taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth- still feel the sharp jab of pain as he bit down on the insides of his own cheeks, trying to weaponize his teeth. But Brock's grip had been like iron on his jaw, keeping his mouth pried open so he couldn't bite down to hurt him without biting through the soft flesh of his inner cheek. So Steve had been unable to make any noise save for strangled rasping chokes whenever he could catches a breath around the rough, filthy intrusion in his throat. _And then the attack had started._

A raw shudder spilled down Steve's spine and he craned closer, Bucky finally releasing his soft cradling of his face and drawing him in against his chest in a tight, one armed hug. "I was scared- I- I was panicking cause I couldn't do anything, and no one could hear me and...my asthma started kicking up...." Steve's voice fell to a hushed whisper, his cheeks suddenly wet as the tears slid from under his lashes. _"He didn't stop_...I thought I was gonna suffocate and he didn't stop...it got so bad I could tell I was passing out...couldn't move..." Bucky's arm tightened, and Steve could hear his teeth grinding together, his chest heating with fury, and Steve let his fine-boned fingers curl into Bucky's shirt, his face nestling in against his collar as his tears wet circular patches on his shirt. "I blacked out a bit..." Steve breathed, his wet lashes fluttering against the skin of Bucky's collar bone. "I...I think...that must have been when he turned me over-"

Instantly, Steve felt the sick nausea rush back; the raw terror of realizing you were being taken advantage of and knowing with absolute certainty that there was _nothing_ you could do to stop it. Had Steve been able to breath he would have fought, and kicked and screamed and bit, but it had been several long minutes with all but no air in his lungs and it had taken embarrassingly little effort for his attacker to turn him over and yanks his pants and briefs down off his hips. His fingers had fumbled weakly for the inhaler on his dresser while Brock had breathed words against his skin that he couldn't remember. _But he remembered his hands._ Steve didn't think he could ever forget, not when they'd slid over his skin, not when he'd felt the painful intrusion of one dry finger into his body- not when he could remember laying face down on the floor- his lungs failing him and thinking _'oh god- this is actually happening. This is happening- and it's going to hurt.'_

Bucky was rubbing his back now, whispering into his hair as Steve trembled against him, his hands bunched in his shirt as nightmarish memories flashed through his head like grenades. He kissed Steve's temple, a soft hushing noise slipping from his lips as a raw whimper escaped a Steve. "Hey-" Bucky whispered, his chest in knots of pity and grief. "Hey...hey, it's okay...you don't gotta talk about it if you're not ready...we don't gotta talk about it-”

"No-" Steve  broke out abruptly, urgency suddenly spiking through his body, his head snapping up as desperation spilled through his veins. "No- this is important- it's-" Steve swallowed hard, still shaking, but his resolve had hardened now. Bucky _needed_ to know. Maybe not the details -those were still too raw even for Steve to recount- but Bucky needed to know, because in the middle of the tangled mess of hurt, and brutality, there was a single thread of hope. “This is important…” He said softly, his eyes fixed somewhere far away, his fingers flexing in Bucky’s shirt.

Steve drew in a shaking breath, and when it came out, his voice was small, and hushed. “There was no way I could have made him stop. I hadn’t been able to breath well for a while, and it was just getting worse...I couldn’t really even see...But...someone kept texting him- I don't know who… At first I thought he was just gonna ignore it, but after it went off a couple times- _he stopped.”_ He couldn’t help the little breathy huff that escaped his lips, his muscles uncoiling as even the memory of the moment it had all stopped brought relief. “He seemed annoyed, but he let go of me...just...left me there, but, before he left, _he called someone.”_

Steve swallowed hard, Brock’s voice still echoing around his head. “I couldn’t focus on a lot besides trying to keep breathing, but I don't think it was the same person that had texted him...he was bragging about what he'd done...talking about- all the noises I'd made- how easy I'd given up...saying how as soon as he had time he was gonna come back and see how I _really_ handled..." He said tightly, his muscles quivering with a fear Steve didn’t want to admit to. It was over now. Bucky wouldn’t let anything happen to him, and Steve wasn’t going to make the mistake of opening his door to Rumlow again, but _still_...he’d sounded so sure, like there was nothing in the world that could stop him from getting what he’d come for. Maybe Brock counted using his mouth as a victory over his frat brothers, but he’d intended to take Steve _completely,_ and Steve shuddered to imagine him coming back to finish the job.

But Steve couldn’t worry about something that may never happen. Right now, he just wanted Brock, and everyone else involved, to pay.

“This could be wrong...I might not have heard right, but if I did...If I did, I think I know where we can get proof…” Steve swallowed hard. ”He didn’t-” He started, before his stomach clenched sickly, and he changed tracks again, his eyes dropping away. “There’s no DNA on me that couldn’t be explain by any lawyer who’s worth a damn. There’s no saliva- no semen- and from what I’ve seen of those sick bastards you had to live with, no one’s gonna speak out against him. Not a one of’em had any problem making a game out of fucking and then ditching me, so I doubt they’re just going to develop a moral compass out of the fucking blue-”

Steve’s voice was tightening, pitching with anger, and hurt, and Bucky felt his heart twist with pity. _God_ the world was so fucked up, and Steve felt it more bitterly than anyone he knew. “Steve…” Bucky said softly, cutting off the raw, angry words spilling from Steve’s lips. He knew the odds, but there was more, there was something Steve hadn’t managed to say yet.

The younger boy faltered, his voice breaking, and then trailing off, his eyes dropping to his hands. “Sorry…” He breathed, blinking hard, his eyes stinging from the tears that had wet his cheeks. “We don’t have proof...not yet...but I think I know where we can get it…” Steve let his tongue dart out over his lips, his stomach rolling sickly as his mind tricked his senses into believing that he could still taste him even though all his taste buds registered was the salt from his own tears. “I could be wrong…but I don’t think he person he called picked up...I think he left a voicemail, which means someone's phone has a recording of everything he said.”

Steve’s words abruptly pitched Bucky’s mind into a whirl, his thought skittering everywhere like flat pebbles across the surface of water- like a bag of marbles spilled onto a tile floor. _A confession_. If what Steve said was accurate- if the voicemail existed it would be more than enough -Bucky prayed- to get Brock arrested, or at the very _least_ expelled. _If_ it existed. _If_ it existed, _and_  if they could find it. _Who would Brock have called?_

Immediately, Bucky began sorting through anyone he knew who was connected to Brock, anyone he would have called. Rollens was a safe bet, they were always together. Rollins knew much of what Brock knew, so it was possible he’d even known what was going to happen before hand-

_But no._

Rollins was vicious- even more so when he was jealous, and Bucky couldn’t imagine such a hostile force would be fun to brag to. But his _expression-_ Bucky had seen Jack’s face mere minutes before he’d found out what had happened to Steve. He’d looked more threatening than normal. He’d looked jealous, and suddenly, Bucky wondered if it hadn’t been Rollin’s who had been texting Brock. He was hostile, and possessive, and of all the guys in the frat, he’d shunned the whole bet out of sheer spite. He’d always hated that Brock had wanted to fuck Steve, and it wouldn’t necessarily be out of character for him to try and derail his plan out of pure resentment.

But Bucky didn’t need Rollins. Rollins wouldn’t turn Brock in no matter _how much_ he knew. Bucky needed whoever had gotten the voicemail.

_And suddenly, it was right in front of him._

It was a stretch- _god it was a fucking stretch-_ but a stretch may be the best they had.

“Steve-” Bucky said in a muted tone, the word quiet, and tense in the few inches between their faces. “I think I know who he would have called.” He felt Steve’s breath hitch in his lungs, Bucky’s own mouth going dry as he clung to the tiny thread of hope. “Jeremiah Pierce is furnishing the prize- my bike- If Brock decided he’d won, he’d call Pierce to claim it…” Bucky swallowed hard, memories flashing in front of his eyes, as the minutes that felt like years ago replayed in his mind.

Jeremiah standing against the counter. Jeremiah prying into his business like the egocentric, entitled bastard he was. Jeremiah pocketing his phone as it chirped in his hand.

_Missing a call._

_Brock’s call._

Had Bucky not threatened to shove a soda can down his esophagus, and punch his lights out less than an hour ago, it might have been easy to get him to lend him the phone. But not anymore. Pierce was as arrogant as they came, and Bucky had damaged his fragile pride. Getting the phone- and by extension, the confession- just got a lot more difficult. But when Bucky’s eyes fixed back on the boy cradled in his arm, he saw an expression that chilled his blood, and raised gooseflesh along his arms. Steve’s eyes had come alive with a sick glint, his mouth still relaxed, but the look unnerved Bucky, and a part of him loved it.

“What?” He breathed, blinking rapidly as Steve took him in with that mad look in his eyes.

_“Pierce-”_ Steve pressed evenly, his tongue sliding out to wet his lips. “You’re _sure?”_

Bucky faltered, his eyes darting down uncertainly, before something hardened inside him. It was a stretch. But it was the only thing that made sense, and Bucky felt Steve’s twisted satisfaction catching at his heart as he gave a tight nod. “Yeah. Yeah, It’s gotta be him. No one makes more sense.”

Steve nodded, and all at once, his bruised, tender mouth turned up into a smirk that made Bucky’s heart race. _“Good.”_ He said, something dangerous flashing in his eyes before his hands slid up to take Bucky’s jaw, his eyes locking levelly with his. “Then how do you feel about killing two birds with one stone? ‘ _Cause I’ve been wanting to take that bastard down for stealing your shit since the second I heard of ‘im.”_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of right now, I don't have this marked under rape/non-con in the archive warnings considering it's all in the past or in none graphic reference, but I know it's on the fence. If this makes anyone uncomfortable, or you think the warnings should be updated, let me know, and I'll change it.


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky wouldn’t kiss Steve on the lips again until he asked, and so far, he hadn’t asked. Bucky wasn’t bothered. But it didn’t stop his being affectionate with him.

Steve was doing... _okay_. _Good_ was too strong a word, but he was still holding together. After Bucky had found him on his floor- after their initial exchanges, Bucky helped Steve into the bathroom, his boyfriend’s knees still shaky underneath him, his muscles rubbery from the adrenaline and shock. He’d run a warm bath, Steve awkwardly taking off his socks and his sweat-damp shirt, folding them, along with the sheet, and placing them on the closed lid of the toilet seat. He’d kept his eyes away until Steve had sunk under the water. He had always been body shy, and Bucky knew what a vicious blow something like this could deal to the little bit of progress Steve had made.

But once Steve was settled in the warm water, Bucky asked careful permission, and began wetting and lathering Steve’s hair. The strong fingers of his right hand massaged Steve’s scalp, the smaller boy breathing little sighs that rippled the surface of the water as he worked. Bucky washed Steve’s neck, and back, but passed over the washcloth for Steve to take care of anything below water-level. He was over-cautious, yes, but Bucky would rather tip-toe around Steve now and have him reprimand him later, than to do something to frighten, or hurt Steve.

Clean, warm, and dressed in his softest pajamas, Steve had curled up in Bucky’s arms while he kissed his cheeks, and temples. He stroked tenderly over his jaw, and shoulders and arms, caressing his soft pale skin as he lavished him with the safest forms of affection he could give. After a few minutes, warm, quiet tears spilled down over Steve’s cheeks, and his breath turned to little sniffs, and whimpers, but Bucky just held him, and didn’t press. This was normal. It wasn’t going to go away immediately, it was gonna hurt like hell- maybe for quite a while, but Steve was strong. He was gonna come through this, and Bucky would be his support the whole way. He held Steve until he fell asleep, lashes crusted with drying tears, cheeks blotchy, and red. And once Bucky felt his breathing grow even, he let his own exhausted body relax, and slipped into sleep beside him.

-.-.-.-

_“Shit-”_

Bucky ended the call with a jab to the screen, crammed his phone back into his back pocket, turning on his heel to stalk the length of the room. Steve, sitting on the bed, and still in his pajamas, watched him through serious, concerned eyes. Bucky raked his fingers through his hair, feeling frustration filling every cavity in his body. He _knew_ this was gonna happen. He _knew_ what the call would be the minute he opened it. _So why was he still so angry?_ “They had to let him go.” Bucky said tightly, wringing through his loose, dark curls. “The police-” He added as a side note. “ _Not enough evidence_ , they said- STRIKE musta vouched for him like we thought….so they fucking let him go. _The bastards-”_

_“Bucky-”_ Steve cut over him, slipping from the bed and taking Bucky’s elbow, tugging his fingers free of his abused hair. Bucky’s head whipped towards him, his expression tormented, and Steve met his gaze with a grimace. “We _knew_ that was gonna happen…” He reminded him softly, Bucky’s frustration morphing into something like anguish. “We knew they weren’t gonna keep him...It’s okay…” Steve said, his voice dropping off to a soothing murmur. “We’ve got a plan, remember? We’re gonna make this right…”

Bucky huffed an agitated sigh, his head dropping heavily onto Steve’s bony shoulder as he leaned into him, his chest in a knot. He knew they were gonna make it right, but it wasn’t happening fast enough. Just shy of twenty four hours was _still_ too long, and Bucky’s heart was aching. Steve didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to live in a world where the man who’d assaulted him was out walking around campus. He deserved better. But as Bucky felt Steve’s hands come to rest on his ribs- as he felt the warmth, and tenderness in them as he rubbed up and down his sides, he felt the tension in his body ease, and he allowed his arm to slip around the back of Steve’s neck.

“It’s gonna be alright…” Steve said into his chest, nuzzling close as Bucky pressed in against him. Comforting Bucky did as much for Steve as it did for him. It kept him believe in what he was saying. It kept him optimistic that they could actually put all of this behind them. He wasn’t right yet. Somewhere deep inside him, Steve still felt off balance, and fractured. He still felt a little broken. But every word of comfort- every gentle brush of affection that passed between them sealed those cracks in his soul a little tighter, until eventually the hurt wouldn’t be able to find a way in at all.

Steve felt Bucky pull him closer, burying his face in the side of his neck and breathing in his familiar scent, and Steve smiled as his breath ruffled through his hair. He liked when Bucky did that. He liked all the little reminders of his love, and Steve tugged his head back just a bit, smiling faintly at him. “Now c'mere…”

Bucky blinked, turning his head out of the crook of Steve’s neck, and feeling warmth, and surprise suddenly flush through his chest as Steve took his face in his hands and drew their mouths together. The kiss was gentle, closed mouthed, and tame, but Bucky returned it like a blessing. His eyelashes fluttered closed, his right hand moving up to cup Steve jaw. It was sweet, but lingering, and when Steve finally drew back, his mouth was turned up in a little smile, and his cheeks were flushed a delicate pink.

It was the first time Steve had kissed him since the incident.

Bucky felt his breath leave him in a little huff of laughter, and he quickly dipped in for another light, quick kiss, his chest tight with pure adoration. Steve returned it before shoving him back with a laugh. “Someone missed that.” He jabbed, and Bucky’s mouth spread into a grin, his arm sneaking around Steve’s waist.

“I _never_ get tired of kissing you.” He returned, his tone dripping with sugar, and Steve wrinkled his nose, going to scoff out a retort before Bucky silenced him with another kiss. It was much like the first. Warm, and sweet, and lingering, without the need for deep, hungry biting or sucking. That was another thing Bucky was going to wait for Steve to start initiating on his own. But he cradled his love close and kissed him with all the tenderness and aching, love and adoration that felt like it would break through the shell of his ribs if he didn’t somehow get it out, and Steve turned pliant under his touch.

Steve’s chin tipped down, his lashes feathering against Bucky’s cheeks as his mouth turned up into a shy little smile. He looked breathless, and sweet, and Bucky wanted to drowning him with every loving and tender word he could dredge up from his soul. “Keep kissin’ me like that and I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re sweet on me…” He said softly.

_“Good.”_

And Bucky tugged Steve back into the kiss, but this time, a giggle broke between them, and Steve gave a little tug against him. Little, unintelligible sounds of giggling protest filled the silence of the room, Bucky’s loving snickers mingling with Steve’s pitching laughter like drops of colored water. Of course Bucky listened with care, listened for anything that sounded even remotely serious. But Steve’s body was warm with laughter, so that even as he squirmed, Bucky didn’t have any room to doubt his comfort.

That was...until his arm tugged unexpectedly free, and the back of his bony knuckles smacked flat up the underside of his chin.

Bucky reeled back in shock, Steve short choke of surprised dismay meeting his ears before he lost his footing. He felt back, flailing for the edge of the desk to his left, and meeting with nothing, before landing solidly on his ass with an unceremonious thump.

Oh that’s right. _No left arm_.

_“Ooohh-”_ Steve grimaced, abruptly dropping down beside him, and touching lightly along his spine, the ghost of earlier’s smile still lingering on his mouth. “Sorry- sorry, that’s was an accident-” He apologized, as Bucky shifted forward with a faint grunt, pressing his hand to his tailbone and fixing Steve with a dirty look. But it must not have come across because Steve abruptly broke out in a snort of laughter. “God- Buck-” He laugh, “‘M’sorry, I really am, I didn’t mean to hit you, I was just playing-”

Bucky huffed, but his mouth twitched just faintly, counting himself lucky Steve was comfortable enough to play with him. He’d just rather it not end it a bruised tailbone. “Nothin’s broken.” He muttered, the faint twitch of a smile turning into an easy smirk. “Just missing being able to grab stuff on my left side.”

At this though, Steve’s smile lost it’s light, his eyes going soft, and serious as he eased down on the floor near him. “We’re gonna get that back too, y’know...You’re arm.”

“It’s not a big deal-” Bucky tried, but the flash in Steve’s eyes warned him of what he’d been too desperate to attend to last night. The things that had been taken from Bucky seemed small to him now, but they _weren’t_ small to Steve. He was 106 pounds of raw, righteous fury, and Bucky shouldn’t _dare_ try to discount the value of what had been stolen from him. Bucky may be on the warpath to protect Steve, but _Steve_ was on the warpath to protect _him._

“Y’know what-” Steve said shortly, abruptly standing up, his golden blond hair tousled in his eyes. “That’s it. There’s a deed that’s keeping us from getting your bike, and there’s a lack of evidence that’s keeping us from putting Brock away but there isn’t a _single_ fucking _thing_ keeping us from getting your arm. _C’mon.”_

Bucky jerked, looking up at Steve in incredulous shock. “What? Steve- _no-_ it’s at the frat house-”

_“So what?”_ Steve snapped, determined now more than anything as he pulled his shoes on, resolve having hardened his edges and sharpened his eyes.

He scrambled to his feet after him, tailbone throbbing dulling as he tried to keep pace with Steve’s flurry of activity. “So I’m not letting you near there- Brock could be there, he could-”

Steve wheeled around, teeth bared in righteous fury. “He’s not gonna lay a _fucking finger_ on me, and I’d dare him to try. _Y’want your arm back_?”

“Yeah, but Steve-”

_“Bucky!”_ This time, it wasn’t a snap, it was a plea. Steve’s expression was twisted with hurt, and Bucky found thin, artistic finger gripping the front of his shirt. “Think about how mad you were just a minute ago that the police didn’t keep Rumlow. I _know_ you hate what he did to me- _I do to_ , but that same feeling...that how I feel about what they did to you, and I think we can do something about this. Everything else, there’s still something in our way, but let me do this for you... _please_ …”

Bucky’s protests died in his throat. _Steve was right._ He hated that he couldn’t make things right for Steve just yet, and he knew he’d give anything if he had to. He knew Steve felt the same way...at least _one_ of them could get a little relief…

“Fine,” Bucky conceded, his gaze lifting to Steve. “But I’m going with you.”

-.-.-.-

“You sure about this?”

Steve gave Bucky’s fingers a tight squeeze, his chin lifted, jaw set. He was scared, and Bucky could feel it, but fear was by far not the strongest emotion on Steve’s face right now. He was _angry,_ and determined, and calculating. He was ready to walk into the middle of the people who hunted him and be the most dangerous entity in the room, and Bucky felt his chest tighten with pride. He never would have asked Steve to do this for him, but he was prepared to do anything to back him in his decision.

If anyone tried anything with his Steve today, they’d have to go through him first.

Steve nodded tightly, letting out a half breath. “Let’s go.” Keeping Bucky’s hand held tightly in his own, Steve stalked up to the front door of the frat house. They didn’t deserve the respect, or forewarning of a knock, so Steve turned the handle, and the two of them walked right in.

_Bucky wished the room would have been emptier._

It took a few seconds for people to notice them. For a heavy moment, the chatter continued, guys kept moving around, and then suddenly the penny dropped. Bucky felt all the eyes in the room turn to them, those who didn’t immediately notice attracted by the sudden silence. He could see uncertainty, and hostility. He could see anger, and blank confusion. Clearly, many of them had assumed Bucky wouldn’t come within a hundred yards of the frat house ever again, others were subtly changing locations; not eager to involve themselves with the same force that broke their leaders teeth and blackened his eyes. Still other looked ready to repay the damage.

_And then there was Brock._

In his haze of violent fury, he’d hardly had time to assess the damage he’d done, but with clear eyes, and a clear head, he could drink in the extent of it. Brock’s mouth was split in several places, both eyes blacked, and one swollen worse than the other, giving his whole face a look of skewed imbalance. He was missing at least one tooth, and the skin over his left cheekbone had split from the strike of Bucky’s metal prosthetic against his face. He didn’t regret a single blow.

Steve felt his gut tighten.

Nothing in the world could have kept Steve from doing this to help Bucky- not once he’d made up his mind- but seeing the man who’d attacked him standing only yards away made his joints lock, and his mind stutter with fear. But he had to keep himself under control- he had to- this was for Bucky.

Brock pushed away from the wall with a sneer, and Bucky gripped Steve’s hand tighter, feeling the tremor that suddenly ran through his bones. “The _fuck_ do you think you’re doing here Barnes?” Brock said thickly, and though his tone told more of irritation and contempt, Bucky could see the restrained violence in his gaze. He wanted to hurt him- _bad._ Bucky could see it, and he squared his jaw, eyes flashing dangerously.

“I’m here to get my shit and then I’m gone.” He said coldly, not daring to take his eyes off the advancing figure even though he desperately wanted to check how Steve was handling seeing his attacker again so soon. He didn’t care if he had to take a punch- or several- but he wasn’t getting near his Steve again. But as though he had seen the determination in Bucky’s eyes, and decided to push it just to hurt him, Brock’s gaze slid past him and dragged over Steve’s slender frame before his eyes met evenly with Steve’s. The smaller boy lifted his chin, ignoring the way his stomach twisted with nausea, and his pale skin broke out in a cold sweat. Brock flicked his eyebrows upward, pointedly sliding his tongue over his split lips.

“Y’want your stuff back, you’re gonna have to pay for it.” He said lowly, addressing Bucky without ever taking his eyes off Steve, and the implication turned Bucky’s blood to ice. “If you took the trouble of dragging your twink all the way out here you might as well share him around a bit. A little persuading and your bitch'll suck anyone's cock."

Before Bucky could so much as flush with rage, Steve whipped out from behind the protective cover of his shoulder, his teeth clenched, as he forced himself into Brock’s space with a ferocity that actually made him pull back in alarm. “ _Is that what you find funny?”_ Steve snarled, “Is that how you made it sound to your guys? ‘Cause I don’t remember you winning some stupid bet- The way I remember it, you used brute force to sexually assault me. _Did you tell your guys that?_ You tell them that you nearly _killed_ me?” He spat, Brock’s expression black with shock. He’d expected quivering submissiveness. He’d expected pliable fear, and wet blue eyes. But suddenly he found himself cornered by accusing rage, by his actions being spat back out so brutally, and explicitly that no one could ignore them.

Steve’s eyes snapped away from Brock, not even afraid that he’d take advantage of the moment of distraction. His eyes burned through the room, boring into every figure present, even as eyes dropped away, and bodies shifted with guilty discomfort. “ _What’d he tell you?”_ Steve demanded, the question not rhetorical, but it remained unanswered. No one wanted to look at him. Steve’s eyes snapped back to Brock, his mouth twisting with disgust. “I bet he made it sound _real funny.”_ He spat, saliva flecking from his lips. He was too angry for neatness and civility. “Bet it sounded like a little embarrassed protest from the shy virgin, and then a nice hot mouth around his dick.” His eyes bored into Brock’s, black with fury, his lips pulled back in his sneer of disgust. “ _He tell you I couldn’t breath?”_ Steve hissed, moving towards Brock with righteous fury burning through every vein in his body. “-That I blacked out? Did your leader tell you that he was gonna rape a eighteen year old kid’s unconscious body, while I was _suffocating_ without my meds?”

Brock felt the wall against his back before he even realized he’d been easing away. He’d never faced something like Steve before. He was a _monster._ A vicious, little monster that was verbally ripping him to shreds in front of everyone who’s opinions mattered. He didn’t care- He could justify what he’d done to himself a thousand times over, but the rest of the frat...He could feel the shift of the atmosphere in the room. It wasn’t outright mutinous, but it had grown uncomfortable, and guilty, and there were no longer any snickers or crude barks of encouraging laughter. His support had been sucked from the room like air through a crack in a plane’s window. It had been easy for everyone to laugh it off, to joke, and jeer, and let out groans of frustrated defeat when it had been just a story. It had been easy to pretend it didn’t matter when it had happened far away, to someone they didn't really know. To a faceless individual whose only voice came from Brock’s retelling…

But now Steve was right in front of them. He was flesh, and blood, and rage. He had a voice. _And he was gonna fucking use it._

“It’s funny right?” Steve breathed, his sneer going slack, though his gaze still burned through Rumlow’s skull like a white-hot coal. Those awful eyes snapped back to the rest of the frat, his atmosphere still chillingly calm. He moved away from Brock easily, slipping out of his personal space like a shadow, like he hadn’t just been inches from the man who’d hurt him. His gaze kept raking over the shuffling figures, staring evenly at anyone who could manage to look up from the tread worn carpet. “ _It’s funny…”_ The two words came out in a breath, seeming to echo in the pin-drop silence of the room, and for the first time, a tiny crack appeared in Steve’s mask of haunting calm, and just a suggestion of the raw, aching hurt he’d been put through slipped into his words.

Bucky watched in frozen silence- heavy, and still as the rest of the room as Steve came to a stand still, and for a moment, his eyes dropped from the group. Slowly, Steve bent at the knees, lifting something from the ground before straightening, and Bucky registered with a jolt, like a punch to the heart, that it was his arm.

The prosthetic hung from his slim hand; a little banged up, but mostly undamaged, and Bucky realized with a weird twist in his gut that no one had even bother to pick it up after last night. It had been ripped from his body, and dropped aside, not to be touched, or even considered since. He supposed he should be grateful. They could have stashed it away somewhere, but the thought of a part of his being having just been tossed aside and forgotten -half under the living room couch- stirred a strange sense of anger in the pit of his stomach.

But that didn’t matter. They had what they came for, and it was time to get Steve out.

The artificial limb passed into Bucky’s hand gently, Steve’s eyes meeting his for just a brief moment before Bucky’s frozen shock shattered and his protectiveness reasserted itself with a vengeance. Quickly, Bucky wrapped his right arm around Steve’s shoulder, the prosthetic wedged firmly into the joint between the long stump of his left arm and his ribs. He could feel a quivering starting deep in Steve’s body as the adrenaline wore off, and he all but dragged the smaller boy to the door, lifting his protective hold on him for only the moment it took to shove the door open before he was back under his arm, crushed tightly against his side.

The sudden movement shatter the spell of silence behind them. Brock blinked rapidly, ugly, aggressive shame at having been so efficiently stripped apart by such a frail opponent rearing it’s head. His muscles coiled, his fists clenching at his side as he suddenly stalked towards the retreating figures. _“Barnes-”_

The door closed with a shuddering _slam._

Bucky rushed Steve off the front steps, holding him close as the shivers that had started deep inside of him grew more pronounced. His hand kneaded at Steve’s bony shoulder in some semblance of a reassuring message, even though his own heart was suddenly beating out of his throat. All things considered, things couldn’t have gone much better, but that didn’t mean Steve wouldn’t be shaken. Bucky knew _he_ was.

“It’s okay…” He murmured softly, Steve stumbling to keep up with Bucky’s longer strides as he tried to drag him as far as way as he could as fast as possible. “It’s okay Steve, you did good- you were fucking amazing baby- you’re good- you’re safe-”

Steve swallowed hard, shaking despite himself as he managed to get one arm around Bucky’s waist, hanging on to him tightly as his other hand balled into a fist in his shirt. “M’okay-” He managed, his voice sounding slurred, and distorted, as his mind suddenly flooded his body with fear of everything he’d been too angry to be afraid of moment’s again. He’d felt Brock’s breath on his face. He’d felt the heat coming off his body, seen the way he ran that disgusting tongue over his lips as he eyed his body like a piece of meat. In the heat of the moment, he hadn’t felt it- the fear. But he felt it now.

_But it was okay._

He was scared, and that was okay, cause he was with Bucky.

He was with Bucky, and he was _safe._

“I’m alright-” He tried again, and this time, he sounded more like himself, his voice clear, and level, rather than the distorted speech that reminded him more of a stroke victim than anything. “I’m- I’m alright Bucky. I’m okay, I promise, you gotta slow down though or you’re gonna kill me.”

Bucky’s foot falls lost their rhythm, faltering for a second before slowing down, even though he still tried to keep moving Steve along at a fairly brisk pace. “Sorry,” He murmured softly. “Just wanna get you as far away from there as possible. Not taking any chances, not again…”

“Buck-” Steve protested softly, squirming for a moment before managing to tug himself free, Bucky dragging to an awkward stop. “Buck, It’s okay.” He pressed, still a little shaky, but the flush of terror was passing, leaving him feeling more vaguely nauseous than anything. Bucky’s expression was twisted with something like agony, and Steve reached out, tenderly brushing over his arm. “It’s okay...we’re far enough...no one’s coming after us...let me catch my breath while we get your arm on…”

The double incentive was enough. Steve needed to breath, and Bucky had felt awkward, and lopsided since losing his arm. He missed it’s heavy, familiar weight, so he let Steve ease it out of the crook of his underarm, and begin to readjust its straps.

“It took a beating…” Steve murmured ruefully, his eyes dragging down to the fingers were the most damage was centered. “Looks like they kicked it around…”

But Bucky was already shaking his head. “I did that.” He said, his voice soft and rough as Steve guided the cup of the artificial limb over his stump beginning to tighten everything down. “I punched the shit out of Rumlow before he spat out where you were. I knew I fucked up the hand a bit.”

Steve pressed his lips into a tight line, not responding as he focused on reattatching the limb. There was really nothing more to say. They’d done it. They’d done what they’d gone there to do, and they’d made it out with only a little shaking and nausea, and a few skewed digits on a prosthetic hand. They were okay. And they were one step closer to putting this mess behind them.

“What now?” Bucky murmured, shifting the prosthetic as Steve released it, feeling the familiar weight counterbalancing his body. Steve licked his lips, and as the shock and fear filtered slowly out of his system, Steve’s eyes brightened with sharp, cunning clarity, his mind churning. They’d gotten a little taste of a victory today, and Steve was ready to sink in his teeth.

Parting his lips, Steve drew in a steadying breath. “I think…” He started, biting down of his lower lip and worrying at it for a moment before his determination hardened. “I think I know what we need to do...just let me make a few calls.”

-.-.-.-

One of the few members of STRIKE who hadn’t been present when Steve had torn into their leader was Pierce, and that was because he had better things to do than hang around the frat house tossing back beers and trading insults with other drunk, crude college guys. And tonight, that was meticulously cleaning his ill-gotten motorcycle for its change of ownership. A part of him regretted furnishing it as a prize. It was a sleek, sexy piece of machinery, and it was the only one like it, Jamie had seen to that. He’d taken something basic, and upgraded, and tweaked, and tinkered with it until it had turned into something unique, and beautiful, and dizzyingly complex. Pierce kind of loved it, but a deal was a deal. He’d sign it over to Brock just like he’d promised.

_But after one more ride._

Pierce mounted the bike, and peeled away from the curb of his family massive home, taking the bike all through the sprawling college town before finally pulling off some time later, pausing to admire the way the late afternoon sun gleamed off of it’s chrome surface. A few cars lazily rolled by. The sun lowered, and Jeremiah rested his weight on the seat and enjoyed the warmth of the stolen machinery below him.  

He supposed it was fitting that he was _giving_ it away rather than selling it, after all, he’d never payed for it in the first place. It had just been fun to see if he could trick, and manipulate, and coerce Jamie to sign over the bike he’d lusted over since laying eyes on it. After all, it had been in bad shape. Pierce had long ago convinced himself that Jamie never would have been able to pay to have it fixed, and he’d never remember it anyway. He was just being economical. And now he was being generous. Really, he was just all around a fantastic human being.

The stillness of the evening was abruptly shattered by the thrumming roar of engines, and five huge motorcycles tore past, whipping the air around him and streaking the pavement with black. They’d only just fully passed, when the rider in the forefront suddenly whipped around, their bike following the motion of their body and turning in a tight u turn, the others following suit as smoothly as a school of fish. They dragged to a stop around him, gravel crunching, engines purring, and Pierce raised unconsciously to his feet.

The first helmet came off, and Jeremiah found himself facing a very tall, broad man with a bushy moustache and a heavy gut, but his eyes were dark, and keen, and calculating, and he found his shoulders instinctively straightening under the gaze.

“Impressive ride.” The voice was surprisingly open. It wasn’t the deep, menacing rumbling he’d expected out of such an intimidating frame. It was loud, and powerful, but it was a voice for singing, and laughing, and making loud jokes. The burly man flicked his eyebrows upward. “Where’d you get it?”

Defensive suspicious abruptly flared through Jeremiah’s gut, his face heating as though he’d already been accused. “I _made_ it.” He snapped thoughtlessly. Maybe he hadn’t convinced himself of his motives as thoroughly as he thought. There was still a jumpy guilt lurking inside him; a frustrating need to not be caught.  

“Relax fishy, it was just a simple question.”

This came from a different rider. A short man, with a round, asian face, and rough, dark stubble. He looked to be more hardened than the big man with the easy voice. Beside and behind him where two other men who were similar in height, and build, both with thin moustaches, although one had thicker hair, and a scarlet beret. The last member of the ground was a man with smooth, dark skin, and even darker eyes, who carried an air of casual surety, and confidence. They were a diverse group, and any one of them looked capable of twisting someone like Pierce in half. He very quickly decided he didn’t want to be on these men’s bad-sides.

He shrugged casually, cracking a smirk. “It was a simple answer.” He batted back. _These kinds of guys liked asshole humor, right?_ “I made it myself,” Jeremiah ran an appreciative hand over the bike. “Runs like a dream, Wanna take a look?”

This seemed to really catch their attention, and the few still seated on their bikes dismounted, moving closer as Pierce felt a swell of smug pride. It wasn’t even his work. But it felt damn good to have everyone paying attention. There were murmurs, and hums of appreciation, the men exchanging low comments of the craftsmanship. Pierce made a mental note the slip Jamie a twenty for his trouble, even after the bastard threatened to choke him limp for spilling about his precious crush.

“It’s somethin’ alright,” The dark skinned man mused, looking up at him from where he’d knelt to inspect the engine with the eye of an expert. “What’s your name?”

“Pierce,” He responded a little too quickly, before trying what he hoped looked like a casual slouch, sniffing absently. “Jeremiah Pierce.”

He nodded easily, straightening up as his full lips eased into a smile. “We’re the Howling Commandos. That’s Dum Dum-” He said, gesturing to the broad shouldered man with the big moustache. “Jim, and Monty,” the short asian, and the red beret in turn, “Over there’s Frenchie, and I’m Gabe. You know your way around a bike don’t’cha?”

Jeremiah’s chest puffed with stolen pride, his lips turning up into a cocky smile. “It’s a little side hobby of mine,” He said, his tone nothing that even resembled modesty. His fingers caressed the machinery underneath him as though to encourage their continued praise and admiration. With a few sugared words, these intimidating men’s opinions had become the most sought after thing in his life. If he was in good graces with a rough, powerful biker gang like these guys, what did he need a bunch of off-color frat boys who smelled like beer and body odor?

The men fell silent for a moment, exchanging glances in silent communication as Dum Dum ran his tongue over his lower lips thoughtfully. He sized Jeremiah up with a steely gaze. “Whadd’ya think boys? This something the Boss is gonna want a look at?”

Pierce's whole body turned to pins and needles.  

The red beret -Monty- rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his gaze drifting between Pierce, and the bike. The motorcycle had his obvious approval. Pierce, maybe not so much. “You really think he’s Commando material?” He asked, his accent one Jeremiah couldn’t place.

“Boss would eat Fishy here alive.” Jim muttered under his breath, and a reckless heat flared up in Pierce’s belly.

“I think I wanna meet this _Boss-”_ He snapped, blustering with misplaced confidence. “I want in. I  can take anything he throws at me.”

There was a sudden breaking wave of coughs, and snickers that chilled a little of his reckless enthusiasm, and Jeremiah’s eyes snapped from one Commando to another. His temper chaffed. “You gonna take me, or are you gonna stand there and laugh at me?” He snapped, and the chortling died off, but the wolfish smiles remained.

“Where'd’you live kid?”

Pierce faltered at Dum Dum’s abrupt question, but quickly rattled off the address, before his nose tipped up in smug pride. “It’s a _big_ place-” He added as a side-note. _“Can’t miss it.”_

The Commando’s exchanged looks again, and their obvious amusement and doubt only steeled Pierce’s resolve. There smirks were wicked, and their eyes glinted with entertainment. With a commanding nod from Dum Dum, the others mounted their rides, engines purring to life all round them.

“Tomorrow night. 10 o’clock. Be ready to go.” Pierce swallowed tightly, nodding hurriedly at the order, fumbling at the bike for something to do with his suddenly shaking hands. Dum Dum dropped him a teasing wink. “ _Don’t chicken out.”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the revenge plot is set in motion...


	11. Chapter 11

“I don’t even _know_ the guy he hurt, but say the word Steve and I’ll punch the little weasel’s face in.”

On the other end of the phone, Steve managed a tight laugh. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, Bucky playing with his hair as his boyfriend spoke to his friend on the line. “I don’t put it past you Dum Dum, but he’s gotta _wanna_ be on your side, okay?” Steve pressed. “He’s gotta think you like him- that you want him around.”

“That’s about as pleasant as pulling teeth, Steve!” The burly man protested into the phone, tossing a glance over his shoulder to where the rest of the Howlies were keeping their “guest” entertained. “He’s five kinds of stuck up. He’s a simpering, miserable shrimp, and he’s actually dumb enough to think we’re buying his story about the bike. Just _that’s_ enough to make me hate him, but he stole that from your guy didn’t he?”

Steve grimaced. “Yeah, he tricked Bucky into signing it over after his accident when Bucky was on morphine and didn’t know who he was.” He heard a mutter of disgust on the other end of the phone, and he huffed a sympathetic sigh. “I know. I hate it too, but just, stick to the plan, okay? No punching his lights out.”

Dum Dum pursed his lips, his eyes still focused on his guys and the sallow twerp who thought he had them fooled. “Alright.” He agreed ruefully, “But if he goes on bragging about that bike for another hour like he’d been I might not be able to help myself.” Dum Dum wasn’t a violent man. He preferred drinking, and joking, and laughing to fighting any day. But this miserable shrimp had hurt someone who was dear to someone dear to _him._ He loved Steve, and _Steve_ loved this Bucky guy, which meant Dum Dum would defend him as violently as he would defend Steve, or any of his guys. If he was worth Steve’s love, he was worth the Howling Commandos' protection.

Steve’s small, grateful smile was almost audible over the phone line. “Thanks Dum Dum...I knew I could could on you guys.”

“Any time.”

“Stick to the plan?”

Dum Dum cracked a grin. “Stick to the plan.” He agreed, before Gabe caught his eye, giving him a pained look. “Gotta go, Steve- The boys are getting restless babysitting his royal highness.”

Steve snorted ruefully. He had to admit, he hadn’t asked a pleasant task of his friends. “Okay, thanks again, tell the guys I'll buy ’em a round of drinks as soon as I’m legal.”

Dum Dum’s warm, genuine laugh rattled through the speakers, his eyes glittering with good-natured mirth. “I’ll hold you to that, big guy.”

“I plan on it.”

“I’ll check back in soon.”

Dum Dum ended the call, stuffing his phone in his pocket as he approached the cluster of men. The Howlies looked like they were just barely managing to stifle scowls of irritation, and Jeremiah Pierce was still going _on_ and _on_ about how clever, and talented everyone must think he was. He was swollen; puffed up like a peacock. He was too absorbed in thinking everyone loved him to to realize it was the opposite that was true. As the burly man approached though, he broke off, looking up from where he sat on his bike with a cocky grin.

“So what’s the holdup?” He asked, a note of entitled, testy impatience underlying his stuck up tone. “I wanna meet this Boss, let’s get a move on.”

Dum Dum lifted his eyebrows, flashing him a toothy grin. “You think you’re up for it?”

Jeremiah snorted, leaning back and sneering derisively. “Do I _look_ like I can’t handle it?”

Dum Dum’s grin widened, and he clapped his hand roughly down on his shoulder, shaking him in a show of forced appreciation. “Nah- You’ve got this handled. Let’s go meet the Boss.”

-.-.-.-

He wasn’t _scared._ He couldn’t handle anything.

He wasn’t scared. Except he’d been taken outside city limits to a huge, dark lot, waiting for this Boss that all of theses big, intimidating men seemed to fear and respect. It would have been fine if he had nothing to hide. But he did. What if this Boss asked him a question about the bike he couldn’t answer? What if he called his bluff? These commandos didn’t seem like the kind of men that liked being lied to. He could get killed- _Oh god_ \- okay- he was a _little_ scared.

Pierce swallowed hard, nervously running his hand over the bike, the warm metal offering no comfort to his jittering nerves. The bike had turned on him already. The traitorous thing was just waiting to trap him in his lie. It was going to bite him in the ass for taking it away from its owner.

Suddenly, the heavy roar or a motor met his ears, and Pierce lept out of his skin. The headlamp of the approaching motorcycle lit off the Commandos’ grins, and he felt his stomach turn inside out with panic. _This was it._ Their Boss was going to take one look at him, and one look at the bike, and then it would _whisper_ to him- tell him where he’d gotten it from- how Pierce had tried to trick his men. The bike would rat him out, and then the gang he’d played around with like puppets on strings would turn on him, and shank him.

_Oh god-_

_He was gonna die here._

The motorcycle skidded to a stop, the Boss dismounting. The figure was clad in heavy leather, and combat boots. Pierce could feel the energy of his stare through the visor of the sleek black helmet. His knees turned weak underneath him. The Boss reached up gloved hands, unclipping the helmet- and lifting it free.

Pierce’s mind did a double take.

Long, dark chestnut hair spilled out over the Boss’s shoulder, in large, soft curls. Gloved hands blindly touched up a spot of blood red lipstick. Smoky grays and blacks, framed by long lashes, lined dark brown eyes, and Pierce’s stomach turned right-side out again with relief.

“You’re a _girl-”_ He barked with a laugh of relief, and for some reason the Commando’s exchanged weighted looks. His eyes darted back to them as he shook out the tension that had gathered in his shoulders. “You _bastards!_ You had me scared over nothing!” Someone snorted. He couldn’t see who, but irritation flared up in his stomach. _“What?_ You think I’m gonna get all shaky-kneed over _motorcycle-barbie_ over here?” He laughed, the sound loud, and grating, and suddenly, he felt steely energy prickling across the back of his neck.

Turning around, Pierce found himself face to face with the Boss. The woman had her chin raised, her eyes level, and deadly calm. “Your name’s Pierce, is it not?” She snapped out, her british accent cold, and clear, and despite himself, he _almost_ felt intimidated. But he stuffed the sensation again, his mouth curling up into a grin.

“That’s me,” He smirked, flicking his eyebrows at her. “Is Boss one of those ironic nicknames? Like the fatass that gets call _tiny?”_ His grin spread, his eyes flickering across her body “The little baby chihuahua named _Killer?”_

“Don’t ask questions. _Particularly_ stupid ones, but since that’s all you seem capable of doing, perhaps it’s best you keep your mouth shut entirely. _Now-”_ She continued briefly, her commanding tone having cut Pierce off effectively, and completely. “Answer me this, and don’t bother with the quips. Are you practiced in the art of jujitsu?”

Pierce scoffed, his mouth spreading wide into an easy grin. This girl wasn’t insinuating she was going to take him out ninja style was she? _“No-”_ He snorted.

_“Good.”_

The single, short word was all the warning he got.

Before it had hardly registered to his ears, the woman hauled back, and punched him square in the mouth. He lurched back, falling on his ass with an undignified howl and a _thump._ The women's combat boot came down on his solar plexus, grinding down on him, her weight pinning him to the asphalt.

_“Neither am I.”_

Pierce raised a shaking hand to his mouth, feeling the split in his lip, his eyes flashing up to the woman. She didn’t know jujitsu. She wasn’t one for fancy moves with flips and twirls. She was a straight up _brawler,_ and she wasn’t afraid to punch him square in the face with far more force that Jeremiah would  have ever thought possible. He let out a pathetic whimper, squirming under her boot. “Are you going to disrespect me again?” She asked coldly, her tone leaving room for only one answer.

“No-” Pierce whimpered, sucking his bleeding lip into his mouth, his eyes wet. His entire face hurt.

Removing her boot, the woman abruptly stalked away, leaving him sniffling on the pavement, dabbing at his bleeding mouth with dirty fingers. “I’m Miss Carter. My friends call my Peggy. _You’ll_ call me Miss Carter.”  She shot him a dark look, establishing the pecking order. She was in charge. Pierce was no friend of hers.

He stumbled to his feet, getting his long, wobbly legs underneath him. “Yes Ma’am- _M-Miss Carter_.” He corrected quickly, his head throbbing. The Howlies were snickering. Something told him they’d known this was coming.

Giving him one last look over to make sure the message had truly sunk in, Peggy turned her eyes to the bike, her expression shifting. It phased from disgust to intrigue. “This is a fine piece of machinery.” She said, and Pierce instinctively knew it wasn’t a compliment. It was a fact. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Swallowing, Pierce made what he hoped wasn’t a mistake, and opened his mouth. “I made it.” He said, unable to control the pride that entered his tone. He’d told the Howlies so many times he’d started to believe it himself. To his relief, Miss Carter merely nodded.

“Will you sell it?”

The question was so short, so abrupt, Pierce wasn’t certain he’d heard it. “What?” He asked blinking in shock, and Peggy turned her eyes to him.

“ _I want this bike_. Will you sell it to me?”

Pierce drew a low breath, his eyes narrowing. He’d gotten kind of fond of it...and it _was_ promised to Brock, but…. “How much?”

Peggy rose to her feet, walking up level with him and meeting his gaze with utter certainty. “ _$55,000_. Cash. No paper trail.”

Pierce felt himself grow suddenly dizzy. That had to be three or four times what this thing was worth, even with all the modifications Jamie made. _Fuck_ Brock. Fuck _everything._

_“Sold.”_ He blurted, and Peggy’s mouth turned up in a smile.

“Very good.” She said easily, turning back to the bike that belonged to Bucky, had been won by Brock, and was now promised to her. She ran her hands over it appreciatively, the Howlies watching as the transaction went down. She studied the modifications; the delicate, intricate inner workings. “It’s quite impressive really…” She mused, almost to herself. “I’m sure it’s a fine tuned instrument…”

“Oh- yeah-” Pierce agreed hurriedly, now willing to do anything to keep her attention on the bike.

“Complex…” She murmured, Pierce nodding violently. “I’m sure it take a lot of knowledge... _intelligence_ to care of this bike.” Pierce flushed up with pleasure, drawing in a deep breath through his nose as Peggy’s eyes lifted back to him. “It’s that right Mr. Pierce.”

“Yeah-” He blurted. “Oh, yeah, sure, You- you’ve gotta know this thing inside out- I mean, if I hadn’t built it I wouldn’t have-”

“Oh _excellent.”_ Peggy stood briskly, lifting her helmet off the seat of her own motorcycle. “That’s _exactly_ what I want to know. _Everything._ I want to meet with you at this time tomorrow and I want you to tell me everything there is to know about this bike.” Pierce’s blood went suddenly cold. “I can’t buy something I won’t be able to care for.”

He blanched, his mouth suddenly gritty and dry. _“No-”_ He squeaked, dropping his eyes away to clear his throat. “No, No of course not- you’re right, of course…” He swallowed. " _Of course…_ ” He murmured feebly. The bike was going to sell him out after all. He was no James Barnes. He didn’t know _everything_ about it, just enough to keep it running. He was going to lose it. $55,000. Gone. Before he even got a chance to hold it in his hands. Twenty four hours, and he was a dead man. A dead man with no money.

“Mr. Pierce?”

His head snapped up, eyes huge, and he found that the Commandos had all mounted their bikes. Peggy’s visor was lifted to look at him. “You _do_ understand the terms of our agreement, don’t you?”

Pierce nodded sickly. “Yeah” His voice cracked. “Here, tomorrow, all you could eat- _know!_ All you could _know_ about the bike. I’ll- I’ll have it all ready for you.” Peggy nodded, her mouth turning up into a patient smile.

“Very good Mr. Pierce. I suggest you get to it. I don’t want a nut or bolt unturned.”

Pierce nodded again, feeling like a bobble head, and he watched as Peggy flipped down her visor, and revved her engine. The Commandos tore off into the night, leaving Pierce standing beside his stolen bike, in a vast, dark parking lot, with an impossible task set up against him.

When suddenly, he realized what he needed to do.

Pierce may not know everything there was to know about the bike, but there _was_ someone who did. Someone he’d manipulated before. He just had to pull it off one more time.

-.-.-.-.-

Steve hung up the phone, a breathless smirk on his lips, his eyes flashing up to Bucky. “He bought it.” He breathed triumphantly. “Peggs says he’d probably gonna come here soon. You’re the only person he can go to.”

Bucky squared his jaw. Nothing in him wanted to talk to Pierce. His hatred for the guy had only deepened over the years. It had taken him a long time to realize that he had been the one to steal his motorcycle from him when he was drugged and delirious, and he had only hated him more since that moment of realization. And now he had to play along. Pretend to give him what he wanted. Bucky could hardly stomach the thought of talking to him. “You’re _sure_ this is gonna work?” He asked ruefully, and Steve reached out, gently taking Bucky’s hands in his. The younger boy stepped in, drawing Bucky’s knuckles up and kissing them tenderly.

“It’s gonna work. If Pierce is like most human beings and likes the idea of $55,000 in his pocket, it’s gonna work.”

Bucky grimaced despite the loving kisses to the knuckles. “I’ll pay Peggy back…” He said quietly. “Dunno how, but I will. I won’t put this on your friends.”

Steve’s eyes flashed up, something dangerous and sharp flickering inside him. His mouth tightened into a line. “Not a chance. No one’s paying a _cent_ to get that bike back. Not the Howlies, not Peggy, and not _you._ You already payed for it. You’re getting it back on Pierce’s dime. _No one else’s._ ” Bucky wasn’t sure how Steve intended to pull that off but...at least it was a nice dream.

He gave him small smile, not wanted to step on that hope and determination that burned so brightly inside him. “Okay…” He said quietly, bringing their hands up, and kissing the back of Steve’s knuckles. “Okay...I trust you. You say this is gonna work, it’s gonna work…”

Steve nodded firmly. “You’re damn right. Just remember, he’s gotta believe he’s winning.”

Before Bucky could even nod, the door shuddered in a frantic knock, and Bucky’s heart jammed up into his throat. He let go of Steve’s hands, the younger boy moving back to sit on the bed, flipping open a textbook as though they had been in the middle of studying. Bucky cast him a look, earning a firm nod, and he turned to open the door.

Jeremiah Pierce stood on the doorstep. His normally sleazily gelled hair was a disaster, striking a balance between wind-blow, and helmet-head. His skin was sallow, and pale, his fingers twisted nervously on the strap of his custom leather satchel. He looked like he’d either puked already, or was _going_ to.

_“Jamie!”_ He blurted out, his mouth spreading into a smile that looked nothing more than desperate. “Hey- Hey- Hi, can I uh- I need a little help, okay? I’m in a jam and it’d be great if you could-”

Bucky eased the door against his shoulder, the movement unfriendly, foreshadowing slamming it in his face, and Pierce paled. “What do you want?” Bucky asked coldly. Piece swallowed hard.

“Look-” He started over, trying that would be friendly smile again, like he hoped Bucky would just forget what he’d done to him. Bucky hated Brock, but Pierce _disgusted_ him.  “Listen, I know there was a whole misunderstanding about your bike before- I know you were a little miffed about that-” Bucky snorted derisively, and Pierce pressed quickly, not wanting to lose his hold. “But!” He barked quickly, stalling Bucky on his movement to close the door. “I wanna make a deal. I- I have an offer.” Pierce drew a breath. He had something Bucky wouldn’t refuse. A little piece of paper. The deed. The Boss had said no paper trail. She didn’t care about legality, so Pierce could tempt Bucky with the deed to get the information he needed, and then turn right around and sell it for $55,000 dollars. Carter would be gone before Jamie knew what hit him, and he’d be left with a piece of paper, and no bike to go with it. The short end of the stick, _again._

With a flourish, Pierce withdrew the deed.

Bucky’s eyes went huge, his hand twitching at his side.

“Here’s the deal.” Pierce said, lifting his chin, recovering from his choppy, blundering entrance. He had the ace now. Jamie would do whatever he wanted. “I want you to tell me everything about that bike, down to the last detail. I don’t want anything left out. You tell me that, you get the deed, plain and simple. I’ll deliver your bike day after tomorrow.”

_Bullshit_. Bucky hated playing dumb for him, but he’d promised Steve. He’d promised he’d stick to the plan. So Bucky let his brow furrow, his expression twisting with conflict before a snarl escaped his lips. _“Fuck-”_ He snapped throwing the door wide and turning on his heel. _“Fine.”_

Grinning over his victory, Pierce followed Bucky into the room, tucking the deed away from the time being, safe and sound until he turned it over to Bucky. Poor sap had no idea. Again. It was almost more fun than instructing him how to spell his own name on the deed while he was drooling into his hospital pillow, high as fuck on morphine.

And sudden, Pierce stopped.

Steve sat on the narrow dorm bed, watching him darkly. _Of course_ he’d be here...it was _his_ room. He only knew Jamie would be here because he had nowhere else to go, but a part of Pierce hadn’t really _expected_ to see him here. He knew what Brock had done to the kid, and it made him feel squeamish and uncomfortable to have him looking at him like that. It made him feel guilty, and it wasn’t a sensation he was overly fond of. He’d just ignore him. Act like he wasn’t there.

“So? Down to business, huh?” He said, clapping his hands in front of him, firmly not looking Steve’s way, even though he could still feel those creepy blue eyes on the back of his skull.

Bucky cast him a dirty look, the glance communicating clear as day that he was agreeing to this, but nothing in him was happy about it. He was getting it over with to get his motorcycle back. _What an idiot_. “Get comfortable.” Bucky snipped coldly, his tone suggesting he’d happily offer him an iron maiden to settle into, or maybe a nice bed of hot coal to stand on. “This is gonna take a while.”

Steve watched silently from the bed as Bucky started pouring over every piece of the bike in intricate detail, including its care and maintenance. Pierce scribbled notes furiously, having to write everything down considering his mind had the permeability of a brick. And he never once looked at _him._ That rubbed Steve all kinds of wrong ways. He could see the guilty look whenever his eyes accidentally wandered too close to the small figure on the bed, and Steve knew the look by heart. This guy wasn’t upset that Brock had attacked him. He was upset that he had to be in the uncomfortable situation of sitting in the same room as the victim. Steve had no love for any member of STRIKE, but at least when confronted, _some_ of them had had the decency to look ashamed. Pierce just looked like he didn’t want the whole, messy situation near him. He didn’t want to have to see the wreckage Brock left in his wake. Steve _hated_ him. For himself _and_ for Bucky, and he fully intended to drag him down.

Most of the night had passed by in hours of red-eye studying before they were done, but finally, Bucky stood up, gesturing to the ragged, stuffed notebook in Jeremiah’s lap. “That’s all of it.” He said coolly and stretched out a hand. Pierce reached up to take it to pull himself up from his cramped seat on the floor, but Bucky pulled back, his lip curling in disgust. “ _My deed.”_ He snapped. He’d run out of patience. He’d played dumb all night, let Pierce believe he’d tricked him. He had no room to play friendly too.

Looking affronted, Pierce pulled himself to his feet on his own, whining something under his breath about a cramped hand. But as he got up, he dug into his bag and withdrew the deed, placing it in Bucky’s hand. “There.” He snipped back. “It’s all in order. Bike’s yours, I’ll bring it around day after tomorrow.”

“Just tomorrow.” Bucky corrected, and Pierce’s eyes flickered to the clock. _It was four in the morning._

“Right…” He huffed, scrubbing over his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Tomorrow. _Late._ Don’t expect me anytime before seven.”

“Fine. Seven’s fine, now get the fuck out.” He punctuated the snap with a shove, opening the door and pushing him out. Jeremiah didn’t even have to to snarl and offended retort before Bucky slammed the door on his heel.

Bucky stood by the door, deed in hand; suddenly still. Steve slipped from the bed, padding over on silent feet. His hands came to rest tentatively on Bucky’s back, kneading into his shoulders, spreading warmth, and comfort through his body. Bucky breathed a low sigh, holding the little slip of paper in his hands.

“He’s not gonna bring it...is he?”

Steve eased in, gently settling his arms around Bucky’s waist from behind, hugging him, burying his face between Bucky’s shoulder blades. “No…” He said quietly, tenderly kissing his back through his shirt. “He’s not.” Again, Bucky huffed a ragged sigh, and Steve heard the soft crinkle of paper as his grip tightened, and Steve pressed deeper into his back. “He’s gonna sell it to Peggy…” He explained, suddenly easing around to the side and cupping Bucky’s jaw in one slender hand, turning his eyes down to him, his gaze level, and serious. “He’s gonna walk away with $55,000, and _that’s_ what we can nail him for.”

_“Cause he just handed you the deed.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Peggy's line about jujitsu before punching Pierce in the face was in the original script for CA:TFA. It was written for the scene when she takes down Hodge in the soldier line-up, so I thought I'd pay tribute to that.  
> Moving on. We're getting down to the last few chapters here, so let me know what you all think. I love to read your thoughts and comments! <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a general warning for your awareness/comfort, in this chapter, Brock threatens Steve using verbal references to the past assault.

Bucky stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, the biting chill of a rapidly descending winter cocooning him in the fog of his own breath. The evening was growing dim, and cold; frosted grass crunched under his feet as Bucky crossed towards the wide, cluttered parking lot. He could feel his heart rate picking up the closer he got, feel the fingers of his right hand flexing nervously with every step. He was so close. _Feet_ away from reclaiming what had been so maliciously taken from him. Feet away from what had now become a manifestation of just what Steve- what the love of his life- was willing to do for him.

His feet struck asphalt, and Bucky felt his heart skip a beat.

Peggy Carter sat astride his bike, the machinery gleaming underneath her, a grim smile pulling at her blood red lips. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, heavy, dark curls mussed from the wind. His bike radiated warmth, coaxing it’s old owner back.

 _“Peggy-”_ Bucky breathed, moving closer, and Peggy’s smile turned warm. She dismounted the bike, closing the distance between them.

“James…” She greeting. It was only the second time Bucky had seen her in person, but his feelings couldn’t be more different. At their initial meeting she’d seemed a threatening figure; an imposing force that demanded his honesty, and threatened his sense of safety were he to _ever_ hurt Steve. He’d been afraid of her, and vaguely resentful. Now, Bucky couldn’t have felt _more_ different. Peggy was a terrifying woman. She was intense, and powerful, but she also radiated warmth, and love, and kindness. She was fiercely loyal, and was prepared to do anything for those who had gained her trust, and Bucky kind of loved her.

Unable to help himself, he suddenly moved forward and pulled Peggy into a tight hug. The woman’s body prickled in a moment of surprise, before the tension abruptly bled out of her muscles. She returned the hug, her hands placed flat on his back, her chin tucked into his shoulder, and Bucky managed a tight laugh as he felt her breath on his neck. “Peggy-” He tried again. _“God-_ I’m gonna owe you for the rest of my life- I- I can’t make this up to you- I can’t- You’ve-”

Peggy drew back, and abruptly caught Bucky’s chin in a firm, gloved hand. _“James.”_ She cut him off firmly. “Look at me. I’ve done nothing for you that I wouldn’t do for Steve, or any of my other friends. If anything, you should be thanking _Steve.”_

Bucky’s mouth curled up into a smile, and he tried to ignore the slight tightening in his throat. “Oh trust me- I’m gonna. _Have been._ Never gonna stop, but- even to _front,_ $55,000 is a lot of money, if something happens, you could lose all of that- I don’t know why you’d even _risk_ that for me!”

Peggy released Bucky’s chin with a smile, stepping back as she began to fuss through the bag hanging over her left shoulder. “First of all, the money’s not _all_ mine. The Howlies and I all pitched in. Secondly, nothing's going to happen, and I can assure you once this all blows over we’ll be reimbursed in full. Thirdly-” Her eyes snapped up to his, and Bucky felt his heart skip a beat. Peggy had that effect on people. She was capable of taking anyone’s breath away, if not with her beauty, than with her command, and authority for sure. Her stare abruptly softened. “Thirdly, I risk it because through all this, I’ve seen what kind of person you are...I’ve seen what you’ve been willing to stick with Steve through...A lesser man looks at troubles like you two have faced and runs screaming for the hills. When Steve needed you, you _stayed,_ and you _fought_ for him...Initially I didn’t know if you were worth Steve, but you are...Bucky you _are._ You’re worth his love, and my friendship, and our protection.” Her hand slid out, squeezing Bucky’s cold fingers. “I risk it because I know _you’re worth it.”_

Bucky felt his head go suddenly fuzzy from the rush of affection. How had he ever managed without people like Steve, and Peggy in his life? How had he ever thought the vicious, cruel men in S.T.R.I.K.E had genuinely cared for him? When he compared them to what he had now...it made his head spin. He’d been so blind. Bucky returned the squeeze shakily, and suddenly, felt Peggy press something smooth, and hard into the palm of his hand.

Bucky glanced down, and felt his breath leave him in a ragged huff.

The key lay in his palm. _His_ key. And Bucky felt his body suddenly prickle with gratitude, and a flush of delight.

“It’s all yours now, James.” Peggy said with a smile. “Just take care not to ride her where fishface can see until after we’ve taken care of the details.”

Bucky blinked, Peggy’s words abruptly snatching him out of the heady rush of excitement. _They weren’t done yet._ He grounded himself, tucking the key tightly in the palm of his hand and looking back to her. “Where are we?” He asked. “In the plan?” Peggy’s mouth curled up into a smile, but this one was much nastier. It reminded Bucky much more of the first day they’d met, when to Peggy, he was a threat to someone she loved. When he had to be taken care of. Only this time, Jeremiah Pierce was the object of the glittering brutality in her stare, and in the moment, Bucky could _almost_ feel bad for the idiotic sucker.

But not really.

“Mr. Pierce should be, at this very moment, hurling headlong into a very nasty confrontation, and from there, straight into the police's waiting arms. I gave him the money less than an hour ago and asked him if he wanted to join our ranks.” She said, barely smothering a curl of disgust. As though that simpering, slimy creature could ever belong with truly _good_ men like the commandos. “As you can imagine, he was eager to take up my offer, even under the condition that he break off all ties with his current institutions.”

Bucky’s mouth twisted into a grimace as his soul curled with a sick kind of glee. Peggy had sent Pierce running straight back to Brock, and he was sure the frat leader was going to _love_ the idea that Pierce had sold off the bike he’d thought was going to belong to him, and was now cutting his ties to S.T.R.I.K.E, _and_ taking his unlimited funding with him. On top of everything, Pierce was going to get a beating from Brock too. It was satisfying to not only take them down, but turn them against each other too. Peggy touched Bucky’s hand, her expression aglow with determination.

“Are you ready to add the final touches? Steve will be waiting for us.”

Bucky turned his eyes up to the woman Steve loved so dearly- the woman Bucky owed so much- and returned the smile. _“Let’s take the bastards down._

-.-.-.-.-.-

Jeremiah’s entire body was tingling. He had $55,000. He wanted to scream it- _ANYONE MISS THAT? 55,000 FUCKING DOLLARS!_ He swallowed the grin that stretched his mouth wide. He wanted to laugh, he- he kind of needed to puke. _Holy shit he’d been so scared!_ For a few, horrible minutes, he’d thought the info Jamie had given him was bad. He’d through Carter hadn’t bought it. But oh she _had._ She’d bought it for $ _55,000_. The number just kept replaying over and over in his head, burning a hole through his satchel. His feet scuffled giddily across the pavement. Fuck all this shit. Fuck Brock, and S.T.R.I.K.E. and Jamie. Fuck that Steve kid too while he was at it. He was invincible! He was a genius! He was-

_Here._

He looked up at the frat house where he’s spent so much of his time, body prickling, his phone heavy in his pocket from the call he’d put into Brock. And as if on cue, the front door swung open. Brock stalked out onto the frosted front lawn, just wearing jeans and a tight black t shirt despite the chill. His jaw was rough, and unshaven, his face still a mess for the beating he’d gotten from Jamie days previous. _God- what a sucker._ Pierce flashed him a grin. “How’s the face, Brock?” He called gleefully, his chest expanding with a deep, satisfied breath of pride. “Got your ass handed to you by any _other_ one armed bastard’s recently?”

Instantly Brock’s expression twisted into a snarl. “Watch it _rich boy_. “ He snapped, stalking over. Generally, Brock considered Pierce a friend, and a great source of quick money, but with an opening line like that he was pushing his luck. Pierce snorted derisively.

“Oh kiss my balls Rumlow.” He scoffed, nose wrinkling superiorly. “All I’m here to say is, I’m _out._ Have fun with your little boys club, but don’t expect to throw anymore huge parties unless it’s your bank accounts your scraping into.”

Brock’s footsteps faltered, and then dragged to a stop, his jaw loosening with surprise. He blinked. Once. Twice. Pierce’s grin widened. Suddenly, Brock scoffed harshly, shaking his head with a jerk. “You’re fucking with me…” He muttered under his breath, but the nasty glinting in his eyes turned the statement into a warning. _You’d better just be fucking with me._ Pierce felt his cheeks beginning to ache.

 _“Nope,”_ He smirked, tipping up his chin, his head dizzy with power. “You’re on your own, and by the way, that snazzy little bike you were gonna claim later today?” He pressed, watching the way Brock’s eyes flashed another warning. _“Gone.”_ He spat the word out with a flourish, the grin turning nasty. “Turned it over for a pretty profit, and it’s a good thing too. Any later and I would have just _handed_ it to you!” He barked, a laugh rippling up through his throat, before his eyes dropped back to Brock, seeing the seething rage that was churning there through the rose-tinted glass of premature victory. “And then were would I be?” He asked mockingly, strolling into Brock’s space, getting into his face despite the fact that he was a whole head shorter. “Paying for you parties? Giving you my stuff over some bet? Listening to you brag your fat, swollen head off about how easy it was to fuck a scrawny little kid?”

Out of nowhere, Brock hauled back, and punched Pierce in the mouth.

He hit the ground with a _crash,_ head spinning, mouth bleeding for the second time in two days. He gasped in alarm, hand flying to his mouth before his eyes snapped up, and drew into a dark frown. “You’re gonna wish you hadn’t done that-” He spat blood onto the grass pushing himself to his elbows. “I’ve got friends waiting for me. Twice and big and nasty as you, and I’ve got them wrapped around my finger. You’re gonna-”

The tread of Brock’s boot connected with his soft, fleshy face. Something shattered in his cheekbone. Ignoring the sharp scream of pain, Brock stepped over his prone figure, seizing a fistfull of his shirt and dragging his upper body off the ground. “You did _what?”_ He snarled, wrenching his head back by his hair and planting his boot in the middle of his pelvis, crushing downward. “Tell me, you didn’t just say that to me. And trust me when I tell you it’s in your best interests.”

“You _kicked_ me!” Pierce broke out shrilly, his face throbbing, cheek already swelling up as the dizzy headrush of power suddenly drained away, leaving him only with stone cold reality. “You- You kicked me in the _face!_ You broke something you bastard- _AH!”_ The sentence broke out in another shrill yelp as Brock ground down on his groin with his heel, grip tightening through his shirt.  

“You really think you can just mouth off and waltz outta here?” Brock spat with a laugh, Pierce squirming under him. “I don’t _care_ that you’re rolling in cash, or that your _granddaddy’s_ the president of the college, you fuck me over like this and I’m gonna break you in two.”

Pierce didn’t doubt it. His hand scrabbled for his phone, shaky, and uncoordinated. “Brock- Brock- Buddy, hey buddy-” He babbled, sick with fear. _“Joking!”_ He blurted out with a forced laugh. “I’m joking! it’s all a joke, the- the bike’s waiting for you- I- I’ll go get it! I’ll go right now okay?” His words were falling over each other, eyes flashing down to the phone as he blindly tried to find Carter’s number. She’d given it to him to contact her in case he had second thoughts about their deal. _She’d help him. She had to_. “Just- just- ow- let go- Get off, and I’ll get it for you- promise, okay, Brock? You want the bike- right?”

_Oh god- he wasn’t buying it._

Brock switched his hold from his shirt, to his hair, wrenching his head forwards so that Pierce could feel his hot breath on his face. He’d just pulled back his lips- just exposed those snarling teeth to retort when headlights suddenly bathed the scene in light. Abruptly, Brock’s head snapped up, and he let go of Pierce’s head with a shove so he hit the ground with a thump, removing his boot from his bruised pelvis. And suddenly the weight over him was gone, Brock backing out of the pool of light. Pierce rolled his head to the side with a simpering whine seeing the two cars that had pulled up in front of the frat house. One was a police car. _Good._ They could arrest this maniac for assault. The second- Pierce’s split mouth turned up into a smirk- _Carter._

A police woman with short, dark hair stepped out of the car, moving in fluid synchronization with Peggy as she exited her vehicle, Jamie on her heels. Why he was here, Pierce didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Carter was gonna turn this bastard inside out for roughing up one of her own.

 _“Peggy-”_ He yelped forgetting the phone entirely.

_“That’s him.”_

The accusation abruptly dried up the plea in Jeremiah’s throat. Peggy’s eyes were black with fury, Jamie’s mouth curled with disgust. The officer’s eyes landed on him, and Peggy whipped back towards her. “Officer Hill, this man sold me a motorcycle on private terms, but failed to produce a deed. A little looking into brought me to James. Mr. Pierce sold the bike to me with _full knowledge_ that it legally belong to Mr. Barnes.”

Officer Hill’s mouth tightened. “Stay on the ground.” She instructed, Pierce’s eyes going huge. “Jeremiah Pierce, I’m placing you under arrest under suspicion of larceny. You have the right to remain silent-”

Her words turned to static in Pierce’s ears, the world seeming to slow as the horror realization tried to piece together, fragments linking a piece at a time. Brock had melted back to a safe distance. Jamie and Carter were...were exchanging _looks_...why was she _looking_ at him like that? _What-_

Out of the dimming evening, Pierce suddenly registered the final figure that had entered the scene. A short, willowy blond had appeared at the edge of the headlights pool of brightness. His chest was heaving, cheeks flushed from jogging across campus. He had an inhaler curled in his boney hand. And suddenly the last piece clicked into place. The world rushed back up to speed in a funnel of noise, and sensation, and biting horror.

 _“No-”_ He barked, blinking rapidly as Hill pulled him to his feet, his hands secured behind him. “No- No wait- they tricked me, they- Oh my god- _Jamie!”_ He lurched against the officer’s hold but she countered the jolt with ease, shoving him into the back seat of the cruiser as he kicked and squirmed and threw himself against the window. “No! No! No _NO!_ This is _their_ fault! _This is their fault!”_ But his voice was muffled by the glass, and Bucky felt his mouth suddenly spread into a grin. His eyes darted around the perimeter of light, and settled on Steve’s figure. The sight of the flushed, slender boy brought on a rush of love so strong Bucky could feel it filling his body to the brim, pressing outward and threatening into split his skin and spill out in a hot, aching flood. _He loved him- God he loved him so much he could burst._ “Steve-” He breathed, breaking across the circle of light over to him and reaching out to drag the slender boy into his arms. Their bodies connected with a muted _thump,_ and Bucky cradled Steve close, feeling him breathing heavily against him. His hand slid up through his hair, and he moved his mouth softly to Steve. But in the span of a heart beat, Steve’s eyes flashed open, and his hands flattened firmly against Bucky’s chest.

“Buck- hang on-” He said shortly, Bucky blinking in surprise as Steve abruptly turned out of his hold, stepping across the front lawn of the frat house. His eyes skimmed the frosted grass, heart in his throat, mouth dry with desperate hope. And suddenly, relief flared in his chest. Steve bent, his slender, bony fingers curling around Pierce’s phone and lifting it from the grass, turning it over in his hands with a low huff. Realization settled in Bucky’s stomach like a weight. But it wasn’t a _bad_ weight. It was determination, and resolve. It was the last piece of the puzzle. Slowly, phone cradled delicately in his hands, Steve approached officer Hill, the excitement at having seen Pierce arrested draining away. The phone felt too heavy in his palms. What was on this phone...if their guess was right...was the only evidence they had, but it would be enough. He just prayed they were right.

 _“Officer?”_ He said softly, and the woman glanced up, her dark eyes landing on the young man’s fragile figure. Steve wet his mouth, his brow drawing into a knot as he fussed nervously with the phone in his hands. There were few enough people who actually knew what had happened, and Steve wasn’t comfortable bringing up his assault to a stranger. But he knew it was necessary, so Steve swallowed hard, and press forward. “Earlier this week...there was an attempted rape reported, but he couldn’t be held because of lack of evidence…” He faltered out the words, his face heating with discomfort as her eyes continued to remain -fixed levelly- on him. Slowly, with shaking hands, Steve extended to phone to her. “If I’m right- there’s evidence on this phone; a message that he left after he tried to rape me…”

Slowly, the officer received it, opening the phone and dropping down through the missed calls menu, all in critical silence. “A- Approximately eight o’clock...thursday night…” Steve supplied, the woman’s eyes darting up to him, before she selected the only eligible call. As soon as she had tapped the button, the phone’s speaker crackled to life.

“Hey Pierce-” _Brock’s voice_. Steve let out a ragged huff of relief. “Polish up that bike and say your goodbyes to it, cause you’re gonna be handing it over to me by the end of the week.”A snort crackled through the air. “Don’t see why everyone made such a big deal outta how hard it was to talk this kid around- Pin him down, yank his hair a bit- I’m telling you Pierce, it’s like fucking putty. Kept crying like a bitch even when he was choking on my cock, wish I woulda gotten the chance t-”

Abruptly, the officer silenced the phone, and Steve felt relief crash through his body. Through the course of the message, his body had grown tight, his hands shaking, stomach churning with nausea. Until he’d snapped out of it, he almost hadn’t noticed how badly the words were affecting him. He was glad Officer Hill had stopped it when she did. Letting out a raw breath, Steve blinked back the moisture that had started to film over his eyes, his gaze flickering up to the officer. He didn’t want to speak, because he knew his voice would crack, and betray him, but he forced out the words anyways. “I- Is that?-”

 _“It’s enough.”_ She said firmly, meeting Steve’s gaze levelly, and then slowly, her eyes softened with understanding. Her hand lifted, and she squeezed Steve's bony shoulder reassuringly, a little smile forming on her mouth. “My department can work with this.” She promised softly. “We can make sure he can’t get to you again, I’ll take this to Chief Fury.”

Steve's chin dropped to his chest, a ragged huff of relief pulling from his lungs. He'd been so scared- so scared it wouldn't be enough, and Brock would be able to come after him again. And now, that fear drained from his body, and left him numb, and shaking in its wake. His throat had closed off, eyes suddenly wet as a tremor ran through his body. The huff of relief broke in something resembling a sob. Dimly, Steve registered gentle, mismatched hands guiding softly over his back, moving to comfortingly squeeze his shoulders, Bucky's warm chest pressing against his bony spine. He let himself sink back into the touch, the tension bleeding from his body as Bucky hugged him tenderly, letting the smaller boy turn into his arms.

"Hey..." Bucky whispered, kissing the top of his head, rubbing his back and shoulders. "Hey...you hear that? You made it...you made it Stevie.. _.you're safe._ " Steve swallowed hard, scrawny arms coming up to wrap tightly around Bucky's chest as he let out another rough breath.

"I know-" he managed, shivering violently in his arms. "I know- I'm fine, I'm just... _.we did it_...Buck...we did it..." Vaguely, Steve could still hear Pierce throwing a tantrum in the back seat of the cruiser. He dimly registered Officer Hill moving a ways off to speak to Peggy, but none of it really sunk in. All that really mattered was Bucky's arms around his body, and his breath in his hair. All that mattered was that they'd made it.

Bucky kissed Steve's hair tenderly, letting the world melt away, letting him sooth the tremoring in his boyfriend's body. But Steve's mouth was already starting to form into a shaky smile against his chest, his fingers curling tightly into the back of his shirt. He was okay. His Steve was okay.

Suddenly, something hard, and heavy _cracked_ into the back of Bucky's skull.

Pain exploded through his head, his vision flashing white as he dropped like a stone. Steve staggered under the sudden drag, a cry of shock ripping from his throat. A rock lay on the ground beside Bucky's head, and Steve's eyes snapped up, his body tuning cold with sick horror.

At the sight of the approaching police car, Brock had melted into the shadows, keeping his distance, and his anonymity, but he hadn't been far. He'd heard Steve, the message, and Officer Hill's assurance of his arrest, and it had stirred a black, twisted rage deep inside his gut.

Now, he stood just back from Bucky's crumpled figure, mouth twisted into a snarl of violent hatred, and abruptly, he closed the distance between himself and Steve, stepping over Bucky's still body without so much as a glance _._ "You little _bitch-_ " Brock hissed, his vision narrowing to only Steve- only the scrawny, pathetic little twink who'd caused him so much trouble. He was all he could see, and he was going to wring the breath out of those weak faulty lungs. Again.

_"I shoulda let you choke-"_

Strong, cruel hands flashed out, and Steve wrenched back in alarm as Brock grabbed for his throat, catching his shirt instead. He hauled him forward, and Steve's flash of frozen terror, suddenly morphed into rage. He’d put his hands on him once, and Steve had been too shocked, and scared to fight back. He’d been at a disadvantage, with his lungs seizing up and his vision going black. He’d been alone. But not anymore. Steve _wasn’t_ alone, he wasn’t gasping for air, and suddenly, he wasn’t even _scared._

As Brock dragged him forward, Steve straightened his first two fingers, and _jabbed_ Brock’s throat; in and down. The bony digits curled in behind the junction of his collarbones, jabbing into the bigger man’s esophagus. His eyes flashed wide as a thick, aborted choke pushed up from his lungs. Steve didn’t wait. He hit again- same spot, only deeper, and harder, and this time, his hands went slack on his collar. Steve wrenched out of his grip, and whipped up one, bony knee in a violent shot to his groin

The hit wrenched a hoarse cry from his attacker, but it sounded choked, and distorted, his throat still tight from the vicious, sharp jabs to his esophagus. He staggered back, his gaze going from shocked pain, to violent rage in a fraction of a second, and he lunged at Steve. But before he could get to him, something twined around Brock’s ankles, and dragged him to the ground with a brutal _thump._

Bucky scrambled across the ground, clawing his way over Brock’s prone figure, and pinning him. His hands twisted into his hair, gripping it in unforgiving fists and grinding his face into the coarse grass as Steve took a staggering step back.

 _“Bucky-”_ He blurted out, fear suddenly resurfacing, turning his stomach sour with terror. He could see blood on the back of Bucky’s neck. He was pale, and clammy, his skin damp with cold, slick sweat. But he kept Brock’s face ground into the earth even as he started to struggle underneath him. Steve hit the ground on his knees before he was even consciously aware of his actions, the grass staining his jeans as he threw his slender body over Brock’s thrashing legs. He thrashed underneath them, his hands clawing up furrows in the lawn, his mouth spitting foul threats. He bucked under the weight on his back and legs, raking at the earth. “I’m gonna fucking _kill_ you, you pathetic, scrawny bitch!” He screamed into the dirt, Bucky’s hand tightening in his hair. “You're gonna _wish_ I'd let you choke to death on my cock- They’re gonna have to send your body back to your one armed _freak_ of a boyfriend in a fucking _matchbox!”_ Steve bore down harder on his legs, slender arms clutched around them, his words shaking him, and stirring nauseous fear deep in the pit of his stomach.

And suddenly, they weren’t alone.

The sharp noise of the scuffled brough Peggy and Hill back to the scene, and in a fraction of a second, the officer was beside them. She seized Brock’s wrists, dragging them forward and snapping her cuffs around them. Her shouts blended with Brock’s violent screaming and swearing, as well as Bucky’s pained grunts, and the shouts for help Steve hadn’t even been aware had been pulled from his lips. It was _deafening,_ and Steve felt his heart suddenly stutter with relief as Peggy dragged Bucky’s swaying figure out of the fray. Hill’s eyes jerked to Steve, one hand on her taser. _“Get back!”_ She snapped, almost _shoving_ Steve off of Brock as she maneuvered her body easily, planting one knee in the middle of his back and holding the taser close.

Steve stumbled back breathlessly watching -stunned- as the officer subdued his attacker. A soft hand touched his elbow, and immediately, Steve whipped back around his heart lurching in his throat.

Peggy stood just behind him, an arm around Bucky’s waist, and Steve’s stomach dropped out from under him. _“Bucky-”_ He breathed, closing the distance between them into two short steps and grabbing his shoulders “Oh god- Buck- Bucky, you’re- are you okay- are you-” Bucky’s low groan cut off his stream of words and he sunk into Steve’s arms. His legs stayed under him but his upper body pressed down against Steve, one hand steadying himself against Steve’s hip. The fear in Steve’s chest turned manic. “Buck!”

 _“Steve-”_ Peggy’s hand took his arm again, drawing his eyes to her, and Steve’s frantic gaze snapped over. “Steve- he’s alright. I think he has a mild concussion, but he’d not dying...I promise.” She pressed softly, and Steve -still watching her cautiously- reposition to accommodate Bucky’s weight. He wrapped his scrawny arms around his waist, pressing one hip against Bucky’s to give him more support. He wasn’t baring the entirety of his weight, but Bucky was slumped just heavily enough for him to need to get his hip underneath him. Peggy’s hand squeeze his arm softly. _“He’ll be alright…”_

Steve swallowed hard, and nodded. Suddenly breaking eye contact with Peggy, Steve turned his face into the side of Bucky’s neck, the other boy’s arms having come around his waist in return, and Steve gave him a gentle squeeze. “Bucky…” He murmured, the panic having drained from his tone at Peggy’s reassurance. “Bucky...hey...come on…” He prompted, and Bucky groaned into his shoulder.

“ _Steve_...I have a hell of a headache…” He muttered thickly, smelling of sweat and vomit. He’d looked like he’d needed to thrown up, Steve wondered if he had while he’d still been clinging to Brock’s thrashing legs; before officer Hill had commanded him to back off.

Steve managed a tight laugh. _“Yeah…”_ He broke out, before the laughter turned sour in his gut. “He...He hit you with a rock…” He murmured, almost to himself, before it slipped from him again, this time twisted with hurt. “God- Buck- He hit you with a _rock,_ he could have _killed_ you!”

Bucky snorted raggedly, turning his face into Steve's neck. "After everything we did to get here-” He breathed, pulling back just enough that he could see Steve’s face. His mouth cracked into a smile. “I’d _better_ not get killed by a freaking rock.”

Steve met his gaze, his eyes wide, and still laced with fear. But Bucky- his Bucky- the love of his life returned the gaze evenly, and reassuringly. And suddenly, as through a taut wire had been snipped clean, the tension dropped away, and the two boys collapsed in against each other, Steve shoulders shaking with hitching laughter as Bucky cradled him close. Steve’s hands came up, clinging to the back of Bucky’s shirt as the older boy leaned against him for support. Behind them, Officer Hill was shoving a thrashing Brock into the back of the police car with Pierce, as he screamed violent, explicit threats at Steve, and Bucky’s right hand came up to cup over Steve’s right ear, his mouth settling softly against the left. He cradling him close, murmuring reassuring words directly into his good ear to drown out the sounds of Brock’s voice, and Steve soaked in the deep, soft tones, holding tightly to his shirt.

The car door slammed closed several yards away, cutting off the stream of abuse, and Officer  Hill approached the small knot of friends and lovers. Slowly, Steve let himself pull away, shaky with relieved laughter, and raw from the stress of the day. The two boys turned, Bucky still resting his weight against Steve’s shoulder as they face Hill. Her clear, calculating eyes swept over the two of them critically. “Do either of you need a hospital? _Barnes?”_

Bucky was about to politely turn down the offer when Steve stepped in in his stead. _“I_ think that would be _good_ idea.” Steve stressed, squeezing Bucky’s ribs as he fixed him with a stubborn look.

“I’m not _dying_ Steve-” Bucky pretested, but Steve’s mouth tightened.

“Don’t care, Jerk, you got hit in the head with a rock, you’ve probably got a mild concussion, and if nothing else it’s all the more proof of this shit that we can use to strengthen our case against the bastard.” Abruptly though, his tone softened, one hand sliding down to pleadingly brush over the back of his boyfriend’s knuckle. “Please Buck? Let someone check you over, and then I’ll be able to sleep with a clean conscience, okay? _Please?”_

Slowly, Bucky’s stubbornness crumbled, and his hand softly found Steve’s, drawing it up, before he pressed a tender kiss to the back of his knuckles. “Kay... _then_ home?”

“Mmh hmm,” Steve agreed with a hum, smiling shyly at Bucky’s public affection as he kissed his middle knuckles, and then the knuckles closest to the ends of his bony fingers.

“Then bed, and enough popcorn and shitty movies to make us forget tonight entirely?”

Steve’s mouth bloomed into a little smile, and he drew their joined hands close, repeating Bucky’s knuckle kisses across his in three short pecks. _“Promise._ But hospital, and legal shit first.”

Bucky returned his soft smile, and slowly let their hands ease to hang between them. “Okay, boring shit first.”

“And if you don’t mind-” Peggy stepped into proximity of the boys, her expression easy, and warm. _“I’ll_ be driving, because I don’t believe for a moment that either of you are in any state to.” Her words were met with a mutual bark of agreement, and Steve released Bucky’s hand to sink into Peggy’s arms for a tight hug, the woman pressing an affectionate kiss to the side of his head. Tipping her chin up, she met Bucky’s eyes with a warm smile, and ushered him in. Gratefully, Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist, his opposite around Peggy’s back as his forehead rested on her collarbone, nose buried in Steve’s soft blond hair. Bucky breathed in Steve’s scent, and soaked up the warmth of his friend’s embrace, and the comforting touch of his lover’s slender body. And yeah, he was probably concussed, and they probably had a long night of repetitive questions and careful examinations, but at that very second, Bucky couldn’t help but think that he was the luckiest person alive.

****  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess you all know what this means right? We're down to our last chapter, so buckle down and hang in there for me. It shouldn't be too long in coming.


	13. Chapter 13

_Steve was right._

The night they faced was a long one, full of repeat questions, police statements, and eight stitches to the nice gash on the back of Bucky’s head. The doctor confirmed Peggy’s initial diagnosis of a mild concussion. He cleaned and stitched the split, prescribing several days of rest. Bucky, Steve and Peggy all had to give statements, and as the details were finally pulling together, Officer Hill took Steve quietly aside to confirm details on the assault case. By that point, the night had given way to inky black morning, and Steve was exhausted- raw, and drained from the day, and the emotional strain of dredging up memories of his assault left him feeling sick and weary.

When they finally left the police station and the hospital behind, Peggy drove both boys back to campus and they only just made it up to Steve’s dorm room before collapsing heavily on the bed and falling instantly asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Bucky ran his flesh and blood hand over the sleek metal of his bike, still warm from his ride. It had been three week since the shit had hit the fan, and in that time he’d gotten less time than he’d like to ride. This was mostly because of Steve. He’d been understandably worried. With a mild concussion, Bucky’s balance had been shot to shit, and even after Bucky had been back for a follow up check, he’d still be uncomfortable with him riding. The doctor assured them that everything was fine, and the gash should heal without any visible scarring, although Steve could still feel the slight ridge in the skin whenever he ran his fingers through his hair. But now, after three weeks, he was beginning to forget, as Bucky knew he would, and as his concern faded, Bucky found himself with a lot more time with his recovered possession.

He’d often get out of class in the early afternoon, and go straight out to ride. He’d return right before dinner; grinning, wind tousled, and sporting extremely cold fingers and/or nose, which he would promptly press against Steve’s skin just to hear him shriek. He seldom returned without some little trinket for Steve. Sometimes, it was dinner- chinese food from the take out place Steve loved a few towns over, or a cake from the bakery downtown that Bucky would insist was perfectly acceptable to eat for dinner. Sometimes, it was more classic, and romantic. A rose. Tickets to a movie Steve had been talking about. A pretty little sketchbook with clean white pages.  

Bucky tugged his phone from his pocket as it vibrated and dragged his fingertip across the screen to unlock it. Steve’s text popped up on the screen, and Bucky read it with a faint smile. ‘ _Come on up to the room when you’re done_.’ The message was punctuated with a smiley face, so Bucky had no concerns as he idly finished finished putting his bike away before turning to stroll back onto campus. His feet took him up into the dorm, to Steve’s room- to _their_ room. With housing forms taken care of, and Brock out of the way so he could safely retrieve his possessions, Bucky had officially moved in. The single bed on the opposite side of the room that had once been empty, was now pushed side by side against Steve’s, and covered with sheets and blankets, and stray clothing. Bucky’s band posters had joined Steve’s giant print of _Starry Night_ on the wall, and there were two toothbrushes on the sink, and twice as many towels under it. It was their home now for the next three years at least, and Bucky could honestly say he was perfectly content.

Sliding his card through the slot in the door, Bucky let himself in, his head dipped slightly as he closed the door behind him. “I’m back Stevie,” He called, his mouth turning up into a smile as he stepped through the small opening area into their common bedroom.

Steve’s hair was dark, and damp, like he’d just come out of the shower, his cheeks and neck a little pink. His boyfriend’s gorgeous, slender body was wrapped loosely in Steve’s bathrobe, which Bucky had often teased him about, but now, could think of a time when he looked prettier. He was all soft lines, and long lashes, the smooth gorgeous curve of his calves and feet visible from where his legs were folded under him as he sat, cross-legged, on the bed. Bucky found himself swallowing hard.

“Uh- hey,” He managed eloquently, trying not to read into it. Steve had probably just gotten out of the shower, and hadn’t expected him back so soon. Bucky immediately stowed any sexual thoughts, just as he had been for the past few weeks. He and Steve talked little of his assault, the topic making Steve understandably uncomfortable, but as a result of that, Bucky had been giving the topic of their _own_ sexual interactions a wide berth. Steve may not be ready. He could be jumpy, and skittish after what Brock did to him, and Bucky was reluctant to pursue even their soft, tentative steps towards sex. He didn’t want to hurt Steve, or cause him any discomfort, so he’d removed himself from those thoughts completely, content to wait until Steve was ready.

Steve glanced up from the bed, his eyes lifting to Bucky’s as that lovely pink mouth turned up into a smile. “Hey Buck, you have a good ride?”

Bucky nodded in response, his mouth still a little slack despite himself, unable to get over how absolutely _perfect_ Steve looked just like this. In this light, damp, and pink, and wrapped loosely in white cotton; He was a _vision,_ and Bucky found his feet taking him closer. “Yeah,” He said, trying to pull his heart out of the stars, as he moved over, idly brushing the bathrobe over Steve’s arm and shoulder. “Have a good shower?” He retorted back, his brain catching up with him as he flashed Steve a smile.

And just as quickly, his brain was left behind again as his heart went racing ahead.

Steve shifted his legs out from underneath him to hang off the edge of the bed to loosely frame Bucky’s thighs, his arms coming softly around his waist as he looked up at him with bright, clear eyes. “Yep. Glad you’re back.”

Bucky blinked swallowing hard. _God this kid was gonna be the death of him._ The bathrobe had slid a little higher up along those perfect, slender thighs, baring more of his porcelain skin, and the collar of Bucky’s shirt suddenly felt way too tight. He didn’t know if Steve was toying with him or if he really had no idea what seeing him like this was doing to Bucky, but regardless, Bucky was committed to being good. He refused to touch Steve sexually until he was ready, regardless of how badly he wanted to ravish every inch of that soft, clean skin.

“Y’okay, Buck? You look like yer eyes might fall outta your head.”

Bucky let out a little breath, his mouth turning up crookedly at one corner as he glance away. “Nah- I’m fine.” He murmured, trying for casual but coming off more strangled. He eased back a little, Steve’s thighs on either side of his legs a little too difficult to ignore without a little distance. But as soon as he started to move back, Steve’s hand slipped forward, curling into his belt and stopping him dead. Bucky blinked, taken back as Steve drew him back in. His hand was firm on his belt, his eyebrows raising as he looked up at him. Apparently Steve wanted him right here. Wetting his mouth, Bucky eased back in, until Steve could comfortably reach up and take the collar of his shirt, drawing him down into a sweet kiss.

Bucky complied gently, trying his hardest to ignore the soft, pale skin of Steve’s thighs against his own, or how very easy it would be to slip the robe off his perfect, fine-boned shoulders. _Good._ He was being good. _For Steve’s sake_.

But as the younger boy’s arms looped around his neck, and his perfect mouth deepened the kiss, Bucky felt the temptation inside him flare. He let Steve draw him in, his hips pressed up against the edge of the bed now, right between Steve’s legs, his lover's slender chest resting against his own. He felt so good- so warm, and fresh, and clean. So _beautiful._ His hands slid to Steve’s ribs resting against them over the robe, as he pressed forward, shifting Steve down, easing him down against the mattress.

Abruptly, Bucky broke the kiss, blinking sharply, and letting out a soft sound, his hands pulling back from Steve’s ribs. _“Sorry,”_ He said breathlessly, guilt beginning to knot in his stomach. “I’m sorry- Steve. That was too much. I should have ask.”

Steve blinked from where he lay back on the mattress, his lips parting in confusion as his brow drew into a little knot. “What? Buck- You were just kissing me.”

“I pressed you down. I was getting on top of you. Steve- I don’t ever wanna do anything without your say so. _Especially_ after-”

“ _Don’t say it._ ” Steve cut him off, the tone caught between resignation and pleading. “Buck. You’re _not-_ You’re _never_ gonna be anything like Brock, and there’s _nothing_ you would do to me that could ever make me relate _us_ to _that._ Okay?”

Bucky wet his lips, his eyes dropping before lifting back up to him. “I know that...I just...if you were nervous, or uncomfortable still, I didn’t wanna make that worse. I wanna _help_ you get over that, not _hinder_ you.”

For a long second, Steve lay, propped up on his elbows, his eyes resting on Bucky, before he shifted forward, and softly took his boyfriend’s wrist. “C’mere…” Steve murmured in an undertone, giving him a soft, reassuring smile. Slowly, Bucky complied, letting Steve guide him down onto the bed beside him, where Steve could lay chest to chest with him, his fingers tracing his jaw. _“You’re right…”_ Steve said softly, his breath whispering over Bucky’s lips. “I’m _not_ over that. It’s gonna take a lot longer that a few weeks for me to be _really_ over what he did, _but I’m not scared of you.”_ Steve pressed firmly, his eyes boring into Bucky’s firmly. “I _trust_ you Buck. I know you’ve never push me, or hurt me, and I _want_ to give this to you.” After a heavy second, Steve’s deadly serious expression cracked, softening into a tiny smile. “I’m ready…” He pressed, his delicate hand laying along his jaw. “Please. _I wanna be yours_ …”

Bucky stared evenly into Steve’s eyes, but all he saw was warmth, and love, and conviction. And suddenly, Bucky realized that he’d had it wrong. Since the assault, Bucky had been looking at intimacy as something that would damage Steve further, and at first, maybe that was true. Steve wouldn’t have been ready, and it would have further hurt his already damaged trust, but Bucky had failed to see the transition to when Steve _needed_ to intimacy as part of his recovery. He was beyond the initial, raw trauma, he trusted Bucky, and now, he needed to be reminded that this could -and was _supposed to_ \- be a good thing. He was ready to be reminded, and he was ready for _Bucky_ to be the one to remind him.  

Slowly, Bucky leaned forward and took Steve’s face in his hands, drawing the younger boy’s mouth forward into a soft, tender kiss. His lashes fluttered closed, his lips warm, and gentle on his. He felt Steve press into it, his hand sliding a little further up his jaw. After a long moment, Bucky pulled back, breaking the sweet, intimate kiss with a soft breath, his eyes opening to meet Steve’s. He softly stroked over those gorgeous cheekbones, brushing his silky blond hair away from his face. “Do you wanna have sex with me, Steve?” He asked quietly, caressing his cheek tenderly, and Steve leaned into the touch.

“Well I don’t usually pretty up and hang around in just a bathrobe waiting for you, do I?”

Bucky stifled a small smile and pecked Steve softly on the lips. “Indulge me, Steve.” He pressed softly, knowing what he had meant but wanting to hear it explicitly out of his mouth anyways. “ _Do you want to have sex with me?”_

This time, Steve didn’t joke, his expression softening as he drew Bucky in, returning to soft kiss against his full, red lips, his lashes closed beautifully. “Yes…” He breathed, kissing him again, and this time, Bucky reciprocated, kissing him back as he began to shift his position slowly. “Yes, Buck...I want that. I wanna be yours. I want you to make me yours.”

With movements soft, and fluid as water, Bucky rolled over Steve, gently letting the younger boy’s legs frame his waist. He stroked over his hair, kissing him soft, and deep, his stomach warm, and fluttering with the realization of Steve’s trust. He’d never done this before, and he was trusting Bucky, explicitly with a part of him that no one else had ever been privileged to have. It would almost be intimidating if it didn’t feel so _right._

Bucky’s hands slid down to Steve’s legs, caressing his thighs softly, coaxing the edge of the bathrobe a little higher up, and Steve sighed into the kiss, his hands beginning to fumble with the hem of Bucky’s shirt. He tugged it up, running his warm, slender hands up the strong ridges of his abdomen, feeling the tight muscles under hot skin. Those clever fingers dragged up higher, sliding over his pecs, and Bucky let out a low sound as he grazed over his nipples. Steve was the _really_ sensitive one about his nipples- always had been- but Bucky could still enjoy the feeling of Steve beginning to tease at the dark tan nubs; stroking, and tracing around them. Bucky lifted his hands from Steve’s thighs, tugging his shirt off over his head and pressing back down on top of Steve, capturing his mouth in another kiss as he dragged his hips against Steve’s.

The slender boy gave a high little gasp of pleasure, Bucky’s mouth moving suddenly from his mouth, to his neck, kissing intimately at his throat. His lips dragged over his pulse point, his tongue dipping into the slight hollow behind his ear, and the little gasp turned into a low moan.

Bucky slid easily out of his jeans, the gesture unceremonious- the complete opposite of how he treated undressing Steve. His fingers trailed along Steve’s collarbone with the utmost reverence, following the line of the white, cotton robe down to his sternum. Steve shivered as Bucky lavished his throat, and trailed his still chilly fingers down the very center of his chest. The material parted on either side of his wandering hand, Bucky’s fingers coming to rest over the knotted belt that held it in place. Slowly, He drew away from his throat, his lips kiss-swollen, and flushed, and he dragged them sensually down Steve’s chest. He nosed softly at the pale skin, kissing, and sucking delicate blotches of pink onto his skin. It was warm, and tasted like vanilla body wash. He kissed tenderly all the way down his chest, until he pulled back to let his gaze fall on the belt.

Soft, patient fingers undid the knot until the loose robe was merely draped, unfasted, around Steve’s otherwise naked body, and Bucky’s eyes turned up to Steve. “May I?” He breathed, one hand resting on his thigh, the other, placed flat against his stomach; warm, and comforting.

Steve’s eyes had been fixed on him from the moment he’d pulled away from his neck, and the boy wet his mouth, unblinking as he nodded breathlessly. “Yeah…” He breathed, nodding again. “Yeah, Buck- _please…”_

Bucky nodded softly in return, and slowly slid the soft, cotton robe open, leaving Steve utterly exposed underneath him.

_He was a goddamn miracle._

Steve lay on the bed, his arms still loosely though the sleeves of the robe, his golden blond hair tousled across the pillow. He was pink from his cheeks, all the way down to his belly button, every inch of his chest, stomach, cock, and thighs there for Bucky to see- for him to _kiss_ and _touch._ His cock was hardening between his legs, his cheeks flushing deeper as Bucky stared, his dick lifting up to rest lightly against his stomach. Bucky drank in the sigh, his mouth suddenly wet, his fingers itching to touch.

Softly, Bucky reached down, resting both flesh, and prosthetic hands against his ribs and stooping to kiss between them. His kiss over each rib, and down his stomach, licking softly over each hipbone as Steve began to squirm underneath him. “Can I suck your cock, Stevie?” Bucky whispered, staring hungrily at the shiny, wet head, his mouth aching to feel it against his tongue. “God- Steve, you’re so gorgeous. _Please?”_

Steve swallowed, his face burning red. He was getting better, but Steve still couldn’t see what Bucky saw in him that made his mouth water, that made him stare like that. He was still insecure, and body shy, but Bucky’s attention was gradually making him a little less so. He nodded his consent, letting out a breath as he kept his eyes fixed on Bucky’s lips, unable to look away even as he leaned forward, and slowly took his cock in his mouth.

A raw gasp escaped Steve’s lips, his head dropping back as Bucky swallowed him down, his lips sliding -wet and hot- around his shaft, and Steve clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his mouth. It vibrated against his pressed palm, threatening to spill into the steaming air and alert everyone on the floor as to their close-door activities. But Bucky apparently wasn’t going to make keeping quiet easy. He took him down to the base of his cock, burying his nose in the wiry blond hairs at the base. Steve’s cock filled his mouth perfectly, just the right size, and heaviness as it rested on his tongue. He could taste the earthy bitterness of his precome, feel it wetting his mouth, and he moaned around it. He sucked, and lapped hungrily at Steve’s cock, his hands stroking his thighs, one sliding up to fondle Steve’s balls.

The boy groaned at the sensation, pressing his head back against the mattress as he fumbled blindly for Bucky’s hair. “Buck-” He gasped needily, feeling his boyfriend’s clever fingers teasing at his balls, stroking them, and rolling them in his palm. Steve squirmed, his hips jerking slightly under the stimulation. “Oh- Bucky, _god-_ feels so good- Oh- _fuck!”_ Steve yelped out the last word in a pithing gasp of pleasure as Bucky gave him a teasing squeeze. Smiling around Steve’s dick, and giving it a long lick from base to tip, Bucky let his fingers drag down to Steve’s entrance, teasing around the edge, and suddenly letting out a moan.

He slid off with a wet pop, the tip of his first finger dipping easily into Steve’s already slicked, and stretched hole. “Christ, Steve…” Bucky whispered reverently, his free hand curling around Steve’s damp shaft, stroking it as he stared down at his entrance. It was shiny with lube, and fluttering under the gentle touch, desperate from something to clench around, and Steve lifted his head, managing a shaky smile.

“Told you I was ready…” He said, letting out a shuddering sigh as Bucky absently stroked his cock, still tentatively feeling up his loosened entrance.

“You prepped yourself?”

“In the shower,” Steve nodded, “Call me impatient, but I want you in me...Please Buck…”

Bucky laughed softly, more amazed than anything and he leaned down, softly kissing Steve’s stomach, and then his hips, and a delicate, teasing kiss right on the weeping tip of his cock. “All this time I thought I was waiting for you…” He breathed, the warm air on his sensitive dick making Steve shiver. “And here…” He murmured, laying a line of kisses down his shaft. _“You_ were waiting on _me…”_

Steve smiled shakily, giving Bucky’s hair a light little tug, and Bucky nuzzled deeper, sucking, and licking at his cock as he began carefully testing Steve’s work. He slid one finger in with ease, and then a second. Steve had been extremely thorough, and with little effort, Bucky began carefully work a third into Steve’s virgin ass, patiently working out any remaining tension in the ring of muscle. “Please tell me you have condoms…” He breathed, suddenly aching to feel Steve’s body around him- to be inside him- to have Steve as intimately as he could. Steve met his plea with a hurried nod, his head sliding away from Bucky’s hair to fumble at the desk. Bucky drew his lips away from his boyfriend’s shaft, sliding his fingers out, slow, and careful, and stripping off his boxers.

Bucky’s cock had grown unbearably hard in the confines of the flimsy material, and now bobbed up against his stomach, smearing precome against his skin. Bucky’s eyes followed Steve’s delicate hand as he dug through the shit on his desk, coming up with a small square packet, and a small bottle of lube. He passed them over, bright, baby blue eyes dragging down to stare greedily at Bucky’s cock, his lips parted as he watched him.

_God- he was so gorgeous._

Steve swallowed hard, seeing the gorgeous flex and shift of Bucky’s muscles under his flawless skin, and suddenly feeling very exposed. The last thing Steve wanted was for his own insecurities to ruin this, but he couldn’t help but feel the stir of self doubt that had plagued him since he was a sick little kid. Bucky was _so_ beautiful, and he could now see, and touch, and even _taste_ every flawed inch of Steve. It almost didn’t feel fair. Bucky was getting such a short end of the stick. Steve got to have _all_ of him, and all Bucky got was a scrawny, skin and bones _mess_ of insecurity.

A soft touch to his thigh shook Steve from his thoughts, and he blinked, his gaze snapping up. Bucky stood over him, the condom on, and glistening with extra lube, Bucky’s right hand rested gently on his upper thigh. “Steve…” He murmured softly, seeing the scarlet in Steve’s cheeks, and the way his eyes kept darting away; the way he kept shifting, as though to try and hide his body. Bucky began reassuringly rubbing his thigh, soothing at whatever discomfort had mounted inside the love of his life. “Hey Steve...talk to me baby…” He breathed, bending over him and kissing his cheeks softly, moving to stroke over his hair. “Talk to me...are you okay? Do you need to slow down, or stop?”

Steve let out an embarrassing, pitching noise, shaking his head sharply as he looked away. Bucky’s brow furrowed.

“Come on, Steve…” He pressed seriously, concerned now, and prepared to ease off at any second. “Tell me what’s going on...let me help…”

This time, Steve could recognize Bucky’s worry, and he forced himself to speak, his face burning. “I don’t want you to stop.” He managed, barely able to look at him, much less at his own skin and bones, stretched out, so offensively in front of him. “I just feel a little...exposed...I...I feel really exposed, Buck.”

Bucky nodded his understanding softly, his eyes bright with concern, and he tenderly stroked Steve’s cheeks with warm, solid hand, his gaze raking over him with worry. He wet his lips, carding his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Okay...okay, let’s try this...roll over, alright? Lay on your stomach babe…”

Bucky guided him gently as Steve shed the robe the rest of the way and rolled over and almost instantly, something began to ease inside him. Maybe it was just because he didn’t have to see himself, to see Bucky look at him the way he’d never understood. Maybe it was because he could press his face into the pillow, and just focus on the feelings, instead of what he looked like. As the tension in him began to settle, Bucky bent, kissing between his bony shoulder blades, tenderly working his way all the way down Steve’s spine, stopping at his tailbone, his hands groping at his pert little ass.

 _“Is that better?”_ He asked softly, watching intently as Steve nodded into the pillow. His mouth softened into a warm smile, his chest tightening. Someday, Steve was gonna be able to see what he saw. Until then though, he’d just have to keep telling him. Stooping to kiss his tailbone against, Bucky began working his way back up his spine, until he could kiss his neck, and just behind his flushed ear. “You’re _so_ perfect Steve…” He breathed, sucking softly on the lobe, his air whispering across his skin. “You’re _perfect_...I _love_ the way you look...You’re perfect for me baby…” A kiss to the underside of his jaw tugged a soft moan from Steve, and Bucky smiled, beginning to slowly grind against his ass. “I want all of you. Every _gorgeous_ inch…”

Steve sighed, tipping his head to let Bucky at the entirety of his throat, letting him kiss, and suck blotches onto his neck. Bucky’s praise slowly continued to unwind his tension, and Steve found himself rocking back against Bucky’s cock, the older boy’s arm sliding around his upper chest, holding his close. The prosthetic left arm eased down, taking hold of Steve’s hip, steadying him as his cock came to rest between the soft lobes of his ass. The tip brushed, and nudged against his prepped entrance, just kissing the fluttering, stretched muscle. Bucky kissed his throat again.

“Tell me how you want me…” Bucky whispered in his ear, teasing at the cartilage, and making him moan. “I wanna hear you...Want you to ask me for it, and tell me just what you want me to do with your beautiful body.”

Steve stifled a moan, his lashes fluttering, weak with desire. His thighs were quivering, cock throbbing with desperation. “ _Fuck me_ …” He pleaded softly, biting down on the inside of his lips for a moment as he drew a deep breath in through his nose. “Fuck me, Bucky _please._ I wanna feel all of you inside me. I want you inside me. Bucky _please_. I wanna be yours…”

Bucky’s mouth spread into a grin against his throat, his hand sliding up Steve’s chest to cradle his jaw. Turning Steve’s face softly, Bucky captured his mouth in a kiss- soft, and tender, his lashes fluttering closed as he slowly took his lower lip between his, sucking on it teasingly as Steve moaned into his mouth. “Gonna give you everything you need…” Bucky whispered, caressing his throat as he lined himself up with Steve’s slicked entrance. “You just need to relax, and let me take you...make you feel good...that’s it sweet boy…” He murmured as the tension went out of Steve’s body, and he lay, completely trusting, and unguarded underneath him. “That’s it...gonna make you feel amazing…Treat you just the way you deserve...”

Steve moaned under the sweet assurance, feeling pressure building behind him, the head of Bucky’s cock pressing firmly against his rim, begging entrance. He could feel him pressing forward, feel the muscle resisting- and suddenly, it gave. The head of Bucky’s cock slipped into Steve’s body, and the boy let out a low moan, his head lifting back, toes curling as he felt himself being penetrated for this first time, and _god-_ he was so glad he’d waited. He was so glad Bucky got to be his first- got to be, at this point in his life, the _only_ person to ever have him like this. It was hot, and just on the right side of painful. He could feel his muscles clenching, and burning, and Bucky- so gentle- so sweet- whispered against his neck, stroking his thigh as he worked just the head of his cock in and out in tiny increments at a time.

“Mhh- Baby…” He whispered, easing in a little bit more, Steve giving a wrecked little sigh underneath him. “You feel so good- fuck...Stevie...you’re _perfect.”_ Bucky breathed, his arm tightening comfortingly around his upper chest as he rocked into him, centimeter by centimeter, taking Steve in a way he’d never been taken before.

Steve wet his lips, his lashes closed, and cheeks vividly pink as he let out a breath. _God-_ Steve had never imagined it’s feel like this- the stretch, the burn, the amazing, hot fullness, and the intimacy. _Holy fuck_. Bucky was literally _inside_ his _body,_ and it made Steve’s head dizzy with realization. _Bucky was inside him,_ but not completely, not as deep and intimate as he could be, and Steve found himself pressing back against him, pushing Bucky deeper.

The moan that it tugged from Bucky’s lips was absolutely worth the faint sting, and even that was fading. His reluctant, virgin body was giving up it’s tension, and giving up hard. It was falling away, welcoming Bucky in, clenching greedily around his shaft as Steve pushed back for more.

Bucky complied enthusiastically. He pushed deeper, baring down on Steve’s back, and seating himself completely inside him, bottoming out with a moan before beginning to feel out his pace. He took a few long, slow strokes, drawing out almost completely before sliding back in, before he felt out what he really wanted- what Steve was silently begging him for. He hated the way the cold air felt whenever he drew out, and Steve whined painfully at the loss, so Bucky seated himself completely back into his lover’s body, and starting to take him with deep, rolling thrusts that kept almost the entire length of his cock inside Steve, but moved it relentlessly, rubbing, and dragging over the sensitive, velvety walls of his insides.

Steve moaned into the pillow, dipping his spine to press and grind his ass against Bucky’s hips, almost sobbing with need as Bucky took him, slow, and purposeful; making love to him, making him his.

“Bucky-” He whispered breathlessly, feeling Bucky’s mouth working along the underside of his jaw, sucking over his pulse point, mouthing at his jugular vein. The sensation was intoxicating, and Steve shivered, his thin, bony fingers gripping tighter into the sheets. “Bucky, please- god...more...Bucky, _more…”_ He could feel Bucky’s mouth turning into a smile against his neck, but he didn’t speed up the way Steve had thought he would. Instead Bucky’s slow, rolling thrusts turned deeper, and more powerful, and Steve felt it coax a dribble of precome from his slit. The milky fluid drooled down his shaft, his cock throbbing as Bucky took him, and he whined with need.

Responsively, Buck’s hand slid from his chest, down his ribs, dragging over his stomach, and slowly curling around his cock, stroking it slowly. His hand was hot, and sweaty around his shaft, and Steve’s hips stuttered, rolling helplessly into Bucky’s hand as he pleasured him.

It was slow- _god,_ it was _achingly_ slow as Bucky strung Steve out until he was gasping, and trembling all over. He made love to him, deep, and intimate, and powerful, and it was made to last. It was Steve’s first time, and a quick, selfish fuck wouldn’t do. Instead, Bucky kept Steve on edge, drawing him right to the brink of climax, and then easing him sweetly back down only to bring him back up minutes later. And Steve loved it. His body was hot, and aching, and he was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, and Bucky- Bucky was a solid, immovable presence against his back, holding him down so sweetly, blanketing him in warm, protective weight. His hands brought pleasure, his lips, words of praise that were as warm, and sweet, and intoxicating as wine.  His body filled him completely, taking him apart, and stitching him back together with golden threads of love and tender affection. And it was _beautiful,_ and it was _perfect,_ and _lasting._

Steve’s quaking body was drenched in sweat, Bucky hot, and heavy above him, and he could feel the heat inside him building- _higher- higher- too high._ “Bucky-” He whispered, his voice cracking, cock leaking like a faucet in Bucky’s strong hand. _“Please-”_ The single word was all that could slip Steve’s lips, and Bucky dipped his head, taking Steve’s mouth in a deep, intimate kiss as he thrust deeply into him.

 _“Together….”_ He murmured against his lips, and Steve nodded shakily. He could have- He could have come so many times he’d lost track, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t because it wasn’t time, and now, on Bucky’s word, Steve was ready to fall apart. Bucky’s stroking hand grew more insistent, his thrusts deeper, and more purposeful, his grip tightening on his waist. “You’ve been so good Stevie…” He whispered, panting heavily, his muscles beginning to quiver. “God- So perfect, you’ve waited so well...my sweetheart...are you ready?”

A high whine tore from Steve’s lips, his head dropping back, baring his throat for Bucky to kiss, and suck, and bite. “Please-” He moaned again, shivering violently, and Bucky moan purely from the sound of Steve’s voice.

Bucky could feel his balls tightening, drawing up. He could feel Steve thrusting out of rhythm into his hand. He was ready. They both were, and after waiting so long, they deserved this.

_“Now-”_

Steve arched his back, coming with a cry and Bucky ground his forehead into Steve’s shoulder, moaning, low, and feral as he spilled his release into Steve. He could feel Steve’s muscles clenching sporadically, feel the hot, wet of his come filling the condom. He could feel his nerves burning, his skin prickling with delightful shivers as all the tension that had built up over so long suddenly spilled out of him. He could feel Steve going limp below him. He could feel everything.

Steve dropped down onto the mattress with a gasp, rocking his hips against the bed, chasing the hot, racing sensation as he rubbed his sticky, hypersensitive cock against the sheets, moaning as it sparked residual waves of pleasure through him. His head felt like his was floating away, his heart racing a million miles per hour in his chest. His lungs were tight in the sweetest way he'd ever know, and Bucky- his beautiful Bucky, was laying across his back, breathing his warm, sweet air across his sweat-damp neck. He couldn’t have asked for his first time to feel more perfect- more right. _And he was all Bucky’s._

Long moments passed in panting silence, and the sweaty, fucked out boys tangled in the sheets; dizzy with pleasure. And slowly, Steve began to shift. He turned slightly under Bucky until the older boy came back to reality from his post coital haze, lifting his weight enough for Steve to move. He shifted, squirming slightly until Bucky’s cock slid out of his loose, gaping entrance, and Steve guided Bucky onto his side, arms and legs wrapping around him as he latched onto his boyfriend’s muscular figure. Bucky let out a soft laugh that was more breath than anything, and curled into Steve’s body, his arms coming around him, letting Steve wrap himself around him. He let those beautiful, slender thighs, come around his; let their sweaty, sticky bodies press close as they both came off their high; breathless, and exhausted.

“How’d’you get so perfect?”

The words were murmured against Bucky’s collar bone through kiss swollen lips, and Steve pulled back his head, looking up at him with the most beautiful blue eyes Bucky had ever seen. As Bucky’s lips parted -floundering for a response- Steve spoke again, his lashes lowering as he softly kissed Bucky’s throat. “You woulda waited forever for me if I’d asked…” He breathed, fingernails beginning to drag lightly up and down his spine. “You never would have pressured me, you never woulda held it against me. If I’d gotten hung up about the sex thing for good, and I decided I just didn’t want any part of it...that wouldn’t have been a deal breaker, and the fact that I never even _thought_ to be concerned about that...it says a lot Buck…” Steve’s eyes had gone unfocused, staring through him as he traced his spine, his breath whispering across his lips. “I never _once_ worried that you might leave me over it... _Not even once.”_

Bucky was speechless. Steve wasn’t asking for reassurance, or admitting a fear. He wasn’t expressing some deeply buried insecurity, he was simply stating. Simply speaking his complete, and total faith in him, and Bucky had no idea what to say.

Steve’s eyes cleared, turning up to him as his mouth suddenly turned up in an affectionate smile. “Guess all I’m tryin’ to say is.. _.thank you._..thank you for never making me feel like I had to be careful where I stepped if I wanted to keep you...for letting me be honest- be _me,_ whether that included being a sexual partner or not.”

Bucky let out a breath, a suddenly found his mouth pressing against Steve’s. He swept him up in a deep kiss, holding his face close, and caressing his cheeks, his heart so tight he felt it’d explode. Steve kissed him back, his mouth turned up in a faint, aching smile as the love of his life kissed him was all the passion, and affection in the world.

Steve broke the kiss just enough to breath words between their lips; between soft, desperate kisses. “ _Thank you-”_ He breathed, lashes feathering Bucky’s cheeks. “Thank you for coming back to me...for remembering me...Buck-”

Bucky pulled him back in, shifting Steve gently onto his back, and holding him for several long moment, kissing him deeply, silencing the whispered, grateful words. When he did pull back, it was with a soft gasp, his eyes closed, mouth damp, and swollen. “Steve-” He breathed, his mouth cracking into a smile. _“God-_ Do you have any idea how lucky _I_ am? You’re thanking me for letting you be yourself when _you’re_ the best- the _only_ thing I could _ever_ want...You gave me back so much I thought I’d never have again...I was so lost, and scared, and confused before you came back to me...I thought the guys who only ever used, and mocked, and stole from me were my _friends,_ and I was so turned around I didn’t even know any better.” He caught Steve in another breathless kiss, caressing his naked body reverently. “You showed me how I was supposed to be treated...not the other way around...and I never would have remembered without you...you would have been lost for good...I would have lived my whole life and maybe never even remembered that you _existed,_ much less that I’ve loved you since I was a teenager, and that I _still_ loved you.. _.god Steve...I never stopped,_ I didn’t realize it, but even when I’d forgotten you I was _still_ in love...and you brought that back...Stevie, _you brought that back to me…”_

Steve’s throat grew suddenly tight and he buried his face in Bucky’s neck, arms coming up higher as he clung to him, Bucky cradling him close. Bucky pressed his lips against the side of Steve’s head, breathing in the scent of his hair- like shampoo and sweat- and his strong arms held Steve’s slender frame like he never intended to let him go.

“We really are a couple of pathetic, sappy bastards aren’t we?” Steve murmured into his neck, his lashes wet, his mouth turned up into a shaky smile, and Bucky snorted, tears in his own eyes despite himself.

“The sappiest.” He confirmed, voice cracking just slightly as he drew back and captured Steve’s mouth in another soft kiss, before he pulled away, his eyes filling with warmth. “But since I don’t plan on letting you go pretty much ever, I figure that’s okay.”

Steve gave him a watery smile, quickly wiping at his eyes with an embarrassed chuckle, his cheeks turning pink. “I dunno Buck, if your guy’s _crying_ after having sex with you you must be pretty awful, I don’t think it’ll last.”  

Bucky’s nose scrunched up and kissed quickly over Steve’s closed eyelids, his lashes still wet under the tender kiss. _“It’ll last.”_ He said with certainty. “You’re too stubborn for anything else, Steven Grant Rogers.”

letting out a soft laugh, Steve nuzzled close, his mouth grazing his. “That a promise, James Buchanan Barnes?” He asked, a slight note of good-natured mockery in his voice as he mimicked the use of a full name, but Bucky merely smiled.

“You bet your cute little ass, Stevie.” He beamed, and Steve was sudden taken with a spell of giggles, and he scrunched his nose against Bucky’s cheek, Bucky grinning as he rolled further over him, the legs tangled in a knot in Steve’s dirtied sheets. They lay there for some time, laughing, and exchanging quiet words; nuzzling, kissing, and stroking bare bodies with slow, wandering hands. The giggles died away, and the touch turned reverent, and loving, the nuzzles sweet, and intimate rather than playful. Bucky touched Steve like the blessing his was, with soft palms, and fingers, touching everywhere he knew Steve liked, and Steve returned the favor in due turn.

Bucky drew away from a slow, deep kiss, his lashes resting lightly against his cheekbones, and the steel blue eyes behind them suddenly flashed with determination. He shifted up into his elbows, staring down at Steve as he took his arms. _“Come home with me.”_ Bucky said shortly, meeting Steve’s gaze evenly, his eyes bright with resolve. “I mean it. This weekend, come home with me. Meet my parents as my boyfriend. After all the shit we’ve been through, Steve, _this_ shouldn’t be a part of it.”

Steve blinked, taken aback by the sudden request, and by Bucky’s complete, and total conviction. _“Seriously?”_ He asked, his eyebrows raising. “Buck- you’re parents are gonna be... _difficult_. Do you really think it’s time?”

“I think it’s the _best_ time.” Bucky responded quickly. “I think it’s _long past time_ in fact- Steve- look at me-” He pressed, taking Steve’s jaw gently. “Do I look _anything_ like the quiet, jumpy kid that came up to you in the cafeteria? Steve- you’ve done so much for me. I’ve gotten _better_ because of you, and they’ve gotta see that!” Bucky let out a soft breath, his hand moving to caress over Steve’s hair. “Steve...It’s been two years since my accident- since their shitty decision to cut you out of my memories, and in those two years, I’ve been so _confused,_ and _miserable,_ and _depressed,_ and there’s been nothing they could do. My parents- who are crappy, and kinda bigoted, but still actually love me- had to watch me self-destructing for two years, and I want them to see what you’ve done for me...If they really love me, Steve, they’ve _gotta_ see. They’ve gotta see what an amazing thing I’ve got with you…”

Slowly, Bucky’s words sunk in, and Steve felt a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. They’d been through plenty of challenges since their lives crossed paths once again, and Steve would be foolish to think there wouldn’t be more. There would always be new challenges, and this was just the start of the next set. But it was a new set of challenges that he could face with Bucky, and that made it all the less intimidating. They’d been through far worse, and they would get through this too, and it would be brighter on the other side because of it.

Steve nodded slightly, his thoughtful eyes lifting to Bucky as his mouth softened into a warm smile, and he reached up, his hands lacing over the back of Bucky’s neck. “Meeting the family…” He mused under his breath. “It’s no high-stakes heist to recover a stolen motorcycle and put two sick bastards away, but...I think it could still be interesting.”

Bucky’s mouth cracked into a grin, and he leaned down, kissing Steve’s on the mouth, his eyes flashing brightly. “Well, I’ve got to come up with something to keep you on your toes. I’d hate for you to get bored of me.” And Steve returned the grin, pulling Bucky’s forehead down again his, his heart so full of love he could burst.

“Never gonna happen.” He promised.

And he meant it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It wasn’t all simple and easy. Bucky took Steve home with him just as he said. They met Becca in the front room, exchanging warm hugs, and quiet greetings, and she looked at the two of them with bright eyes, and a face full of warmth, and affection, and happiness. She wasn’t perfect, she still had a ways to go, and a lot to learn before she could be completely out from under her parents shadow, but even the few weeks she’d had to adjust had brought about a change in her. She no longer shifted awkwardly when Bucky and Steve held hands, or kissed, and her wording was more careful, and appropriate, even though she still sometimes had to stop, and reconstruct a sentence that would try to slip past her in the words of her parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes were a little more difficult than their daughter, but even that considered, the dinner went fairly well. Bucky introduced Steve properly as his boyfriend. He told them what all had happened between them since reconnecting- of everything Steve had done for him. And even his parents had to admit that their son was happier- more _himself-_ more _alive,_ than he had been in a very long time. It wouldn’t be an overnight change, and there was still some moments of tension, and awkward, stiff discomfort over dinner, but as they ended the evening, and walked out into the cool night air, they were left with the sense of a possibility- of a _maybe._ The chance that things could eventually grow, and change; that Bucky’s parents could truly accept them, and truly make things right between themselves and their son, and the boy he loved.

_Legally, resolves were made as well._

In terms of sentence, Pierce got off with a slap to the wrist, as they’d somewhat known he would. His family was rich, and influential, and he was sentenced to 30 days, and a hefty fine. But it was alright. Pierce was no true threat, and the pure humiliation he’d suffered was plenty enough to assure that he would never bother them again.

Brock was well and truly put away, serving eight years for sexual assault, and two counts of aggravated assault. Steve was also promised a strict restraining order would be implemented the day Rumlow stepped foot outside a facility.

And for the first time in what seemed like forever, Steve felt like everything was really okay.

He was going to a college, in a field of study he loved. He was living with his childhood best friend who’d become the most amazing boyfriend he could have ever imagined. Those who’d wronged them were put away, and Bucky’s family had started on the slow road towards recovery, and understanding. Steve was safe, and he was in love, and the one he loved more than anything loved him back just as much. Maybe there was still more challenges, and bumps ahead of them yet, but it was enough to know he had Bucky by his side. It was enough to roll over every morning and see Bucky’s sleeping face on the pillow next to him, and to kiss him good morning, and receive sleepy, affectionate nuzzles in return. _It was enough._ It was _perfect._ And Steve could say with full confidence that he’d never been happier.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! We made it to the end! Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments on this fic. It would make my life to hear your final and/or over all impressions, and I hope you'll check out some of my other stuff in the future. 
> 
> Come say hi on [my tumblr](http://thelittlestpurplecat.tumblr.com/)


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